


Falling Stars and Cigarettes

by The_annoying_fangirl



Series: They Fell From the Sky [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Good thing John is around, Good thing Mycroft is around, Good thing Sibley can take care of herself, Mama and papa Holmes are amazing, Multi, Mycroft Holmes is low key a sweetheart, Mycroft Holmes spoils his niece, Mycroft is the best uncle ever, SO IT WORKS, She puts him in his place, She will not take Jim Moriarty's crap, She will not take anyone's crap, She will not take her father's crap, She will not take her uncles crap, She will not take your crap, She's dealt with her mums crap for long enough, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Sherlock Holmes is a father, Sherlock really shouldn't be responsible for a child, Sibley deserves love, Sibley will not take Sherlock's crap, So does Sherlock, my poor baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 35,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_annoying_fangirl/pseuds/The_annoying_fangirl
Summary: Sibley doesn't need to be taken care of. After all, since she was young, she paid the bills, cleaned the house, cooked the food. She can take care of herself. Social Services disagrees and so does Sherlock. Now not only does Sherlock have to navigate the waters of fatherhood and Sibley those of being an actual daughter, but they both kind of stink at it. Of course, Moriarty would be foolish not to use this to his advantage.(yes, I'm bringing Moriarty in, no, this is not your typical OC get's kidnapped and tortured and then everything is happy and blah blah, I promise, I'm keeping this more original!)





	1. One of Those Days

Sibley turned the metal key in the rusty lock, using her body to shove the door open and stumble into her flat. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, clinging to the sofa and invading her lungs. She coughed slightly, slamming the door behind her and locking it back. Her mother was sitting in the ratty green arm chair, a cigarette poised between her middle and forefinger, a beer in her right hand. For a moment, Sibley just watched the condensation roll down the bottle and down the woman's bony fingers. She looked older than she actually was. Her eyes sunk into her skull, her hair had begun to grey, and wrinkles sat onto her cheek bones. Years of drug and alcohol abuse made her look more like she was sixty than thirty eight. 

"One of those days, huh?" she asked cautiously.

"It's always one of those days," the older lady slurred. That was all Sibley needed to hear, that voice, that slur, to nod and rush into her tiny room. She sighed, slinging her bag onto the floor. The once light brown carpet was dirty, dark brown splotches in random spots around the room. Dirt caked the sides of the one tiny window she had and a crack ran through the middle of it. One day she would escape those four, chipped, dirty, walls, but not that day. She fell onto her mattress that sat pushed up into corner of the room. That same moment her mother called her.

"Sibley! When are you gonna make dinner?!" she shouted. The teenager groaned, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them again and walking out of the room.

"What do you want?" she asked, moving into the kitchen. She watched her mother spin the bottle of beer in her hand before looking up.

"I think we should go out. We could get fish and chips! Just you and me!" she exclaimed, grinning like a maniac.

"We can't afford that right now, Mum," she sighed. 

"Hmph, you ruin all the fun," her mother huffed. Sibley just shook her head and opened the pantry. There wasn't much. A few cans of soup, a box of rice, half a loaf of bread. She moved to the fridge. Cheese, half a stick of margin, left over spaghetti, and an apple.

"I need to go grocery shopping," she muttered, pulling out the cheese and margin. 

"Grilled cheese tonight," she said, grabbing a pot and some bread. 

"We had grilled cheese last night," her mother complained. 

"Well I'll go shopping tonight, but for now, this is what we have." She was growing irritated. While her mother sat on her arse all day drinking and smoking and occasionally screwing some stranger, Sibley worked. She dropped out of school the year before because they were practically starving. She was tired of this. She actually enjoyed school. She had hoped to go to college and become a detective. It was her dream. But because of her mother, she had to become a high school drop out, goodbye Cambridge or Oxford, hello shop worker for the rest of her life. 

Once her mother was fed, she headed out the door, hailing a cab on her first try, and climbing in. She ran a hand through her curly black hair and allowed herself to sink into the seat. She was done with everything. Taking care of her mother was exhausting and it's not like the woman deserved it. Like she was sick or something. She was just selfish and lazy. Dealing with her was like dealing with a child. 

~~~

Her card hadn't gotten her very far. She was able to get a new loaf of bread and some lunch meat, though, and hopefully that would last them for two weeks before she got paid. When she arrived back at the house her mother was passed out drunk on the couch. Loud snores echoed in the room, proving the older woman wouldn't be up until afternoon the next day. Sibley shook her head and began to clean the place. 

Their flat was disgusting and always smelt like smoke and alcohol. That was thanks to her mother smoking and spilling stuff all over the place. Leave it to that woman to completly trash the place in just the eight hours Sibley was at work. Glass bottles littered the floor along with random candy wrappers and old cigarettes. Any man the woman met was instantly wrapped around her little finger and brought her anything she wanted, that's where she got all of the crap from. Sibley wasn't sure why, maybe they saw the ghost of who she once was. 

Once upon a time, Bre Lawrence was beautiful. Before the drugs and the alcohol. Before she lost her head. Before she began acting more like Sibley's child than her mother. She had silky blonde hair and green eyes that shimmered in the sunlight. Her smile was warm and bright and contagious. She was a genius, studied law when she was at Uni. Then she met a man who turned her world upside down, and gave her a baby. He was gone before she had a chance to tell him. 

For the first six years of Sibley's life, she was fine. Stressed from raising a child on her own, but she stayed positive, happy, kind. Then she met a new man. This one was controlling and eventually abusive. Eventually he was arrested, Sibley herself made the call, but Bre was never the same again. She dove into all sorts of addictions, slowly but surely deteriorating into the woman she was now. Just a hollow, dead, tree that can crumble with the slightest touch. 

Sibley sighed as she finished sweeping the kitchen. The flat was clean, despite the smell, but it still made her stomach churn. It still wasn't home. Wasn't comfortable. It was cold and empty and lonely. It was the beginning of December and the heater was broken, so that didn't help matters. At this thought she walked into her mother's room, deciding to pull some blankets from the closet. She stood on the tips of her toes as she reached on the top shelf. Sadly, it didn't work out for her, and everything came tumbling out with the blanket she had grabbed. 

She huffed, exasperated, and began to clean up the mess. The only thing up here besides blankets had been a box Sibley didn't recognize. It opened in the fall and the contents spilt out over the already dirty carpet. She frowned, her eyebrows furrowing as she picked up the closest thing to her. It was a photograph, her mother, clearly in her early twenties, her head on the shoulder a man who had an arm wrapped around her. Sibley ran her thumb over his face. His smile showed that clearly he hadn't wanted to take the picture, but he had affection for the woman next to him. A mop of curly dark hair sat on his head and his blue eyes looked straight at the camera and sent shivers down her spine. In the lower right corner there was a date printed in red. 5/12/2001. Nine months before her birthday. She flipped it over to see if she could find anymore information. One name.

Sherlock Holmes


	2. Something Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was a quiet, observant person. The one that always sat in the back or stood in a corner and watched and heard everything, but said nothing. A background character that no one paid any mind. Now all of the attention was on her. 
> 
> "Oh, I mean- I don't- uh-" she was cut off. 
> 
> "What's your name?" Sherlock asked. 
> 
> "Oh, uh, Sibley," she said.

Sibley set the photo down and took in a deep breath. There was no doubt in her mind that the man in the picture was her father. She had never cared before. She asked about him a few times when she was little and began school to find that everyone else had both a mum and a dad. After that, though, she had no interest. He was just a man. Still, now that she was staring a proof that he exists and that she wasn't just some freak of nature, she found herself wondering. 

She looked over to see what else was there. What she found furthered her suspicions on the man's identity. There was an old positive pregnancy test in a plastic bag. A few candid Polaroids of the mysterious man looking into a microscope or reading a book, or writing something down. Her birth certificate. It said the same thing it always did, though, Father: unknown. 

She quickly packed everything back into the box except for the first photo, and took the blankets into the sitting room, draping them over the sofa. As she got ready for bed she took the photo and tucked it in her sock drawer. 

"Maybe one day." she muttered before walking into her bedroom, and climbing into bed. 

~~~

"You're firing me?!" Sibley cried, following her boss who wasn't paying her much attention. 

"Yep, we gotta new guy coming in to take your place. We're trying to get older workers," he said. Sibley huffed, turning around to grab her things. What was she going to do now? 

Eventually she found herself sitting on a chair in the morgue talking to Molly Hooper. She hadn't seen Molly in quite some time, they knew each other through her mother's happier days and occasionally one would visit the other. 

"Well, I could find you a job here," Molly offered. At this, Sibley perked up. 

"Really? That would be awesome. It's obviously the closest I'll ever get to being an actual detective," she grinned. 

"Oh, now don't say that," 

"Molly, I'm a highschool drop out what Uni is going to take me? Besides, I can't exactly afford it," she sighed with an eye roll. 

"We'll talk about this later. Anyway, Lestrade owes me, we don't typically hire underage obviously, but I'm sure there's something you could do."

And that's how Sibley found herself carrying two trays of coffee into Scotland Yard and passing them out to the detectives. Her job was simple enough, make coffee and food runs, fill out what little paper work she could, and other office like things around the place. When she was finished with the first day, she was so tired and excited, that she forgot all about Sherlock Holmes. He didn't come up until a month later, long enough for her to completely push him out of her mind. 

This was going to be Sibley's seventh time at a crime scene. In the mornings when calls were made about dead bodies or shops being robbed, she was asked to bring everyone their morning coffee. She already knew everyone's orders by heart, due to her superb memory, and was already rocking at her job. She learned the system on the first day and worked officiantly and quickly. 

Today there were two men whom she had never gotten coffee for. She handed everyone their drinks, rounding to Sally Donovan, a woman whom Sibley enjoyed being around, as she treated the teenager just like another part of the team rather than a kid. 

"Run while you can, the freak's here," she said, taking the cup. 

"Who?" Sibley asked. 

"Him," she said, gesturing to a curly haired man, crouching over the dead body. She squinted slightly, there was something familiar about him. 

"Do you see it, John?" he asked, looking to another stranger. This man was short, with dirty blonde hair speckled with grey. His hands were perfectly still, but in a position of readiness. She assumed he was a doctor. Probably military with his posture and awareness of what was going on around him. 

"See what, Sherlock?" he sighed, a bit of annoyance laced in his tone. They knew each other well, he was used to this and the man- Sherlock, a familiar name, why couldn't she figure it out?- often edged on his nerves.

"No, no, I can't tell you, you have to figure it out." Sherlock said. When John still looked lost, he sighed "Look at his clothing," he offered. John didn't reply and Sibley found her eyes sweeping over the body. Before she could think about it, she found herself speaking. 

"He didn't die here. His body was moved," she took a sharp breath after she said it, biting her lip as everyone turned to her. She was a quiet, observant person. The one that always sat in the back or stood in a corner and watched and heard everything, but said nothing. A background character that no one paid any mind. Now all of the attention was on her. 

"Oh, I mean- I don't- uh-" she was cut off. 

"What's your name?" Sherlock asked. 

"Oh, uh, Sibley," she said. 

"You're correct Sibley. Can you tell me why?" he asked, his blue eyes boring into hers. She felt a familiar shiver run through her body, she was on the verge of remembering but not there yet. 

"His shoes. The soot on them aren't from anywhere around here," she looked up to see if she should go on, Sherlock nodded, she knelt down to the body, "its also on the end of his pants and on the back of his shirt as well as a few tears. He was clearly dragged away. I would guess the dirt isn't the kind you'd find in the city, but out in the country probably. Someone went out of their way to drag him, throw him into their car, and take him here. You can tell he was in the trunk of a small car, as the way his pants are creased at the knee, showing that his legs were bent up.

"If someone put him here they clearly wanted him to be found. They did a pretty good job at cleaning up other clues though, so they don't want to get caught, not a psychopath. My guess is he's trying to send a message. Since there is no note it's probably has something to do with who this person is." she let her eyes travel to his face and mouth, "It looks like he was poisoned with something that would foam by his lips, they're a bit crusty. Any similar deaths? That could help figure out the message and then the person," she finished her rambling and saw a bunch of wide eyes. Sherlock was the only one who looked unsurprised, he was just smirking. She cleared her throat and stood up. 

"You would be correct on your observations. So far you're the only officer I've met who's not a complete blundering idiot, my apologies Gavin," Sibley turned to see Lestrade roll his eyes. 

"You mean Greg?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. 

"He always gets it wrong," John said to her. 

"Oh, uh... Er, coffee?" she asked. 

"No, too valuable to make coffee runs. Come with us," Sherlock turned and walked away, flipping the collar of his trench coat up. She looked to her boss who shrugged. 

"If you would like to go with him, you may," Lestrade sighed. 

"Will I still get my pay?" she asked. 

"If Sherlock says you were effective then I don't see why not," he replied. 

"Coming, then?!" Sherlock called, preparing to get into a cab, John already inside. Suddenly, she almost visibly face palmed. Sherlock Holmes. 5/12/01.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself, before running after him, and climbing into the back. 

"So Sibley, only child, takes care of the house?" Sherlock asked her as she climbed in. 

"Oh no, don't start Sherlock, you'll scare her away," John's tone was light and friendly, but she could hear a slight strain. Sibley bobbed her head, her anxiety levels having sky rocketed upon realizing just who she was sitting with. 

"Uh, yeah, it's just me and my mother," she said, not one for saying 'mum' unless talking to the woman. 

"Not a very good relationship, I presume, you take care of her more than she takes care of you. No mother would let her daughter go out of the house with messy hair and a hole in the bottom of her shirt. Especially if she's working," he explained. Sibley's eyes widened as she looked down at her shirt. 

"Oh no, this was a good shirt," she sighed, picking at the hole. 

"Ah, poor then," he said. 

"Sherlock, please," John begged. 

"Well, you said yourself, I take care of my mother. I pay all the bills, get all the groceries, do you really think I can afford shopping sprees? You know it's very rude to point out what you deduce of people. Not everyone wants to hear what you have to say." she snapped. 

"Is that what your mother tells you?" he asked. 

"What?" 

"What you just said. You can deduce very well but it makes you nervous to say it out loud. Clearly you've been trained to keep it in since you were a child," he said.

"Well, I stand by what I say, it is rude to loudly deduce people. In any case, yes, my mother thinks I'm a bit too much like my father," 

"Ahh, and who is he?" he asked. She blinked, chewing the inside of her cheek before speaking. 

"You're the genius, figure it out, Mr. Holmes," she told him. John smiled. 

"Oh, you're great," he said. She smiled back at him. 

"Thank you, Doctor Watson," she said. 

"Did I tell you I was a doctor?" now he was frowning and Sherlock was the one with the amused grin on. 

"No you did not," she didn't offer anything else, she just looked out the window and watched as London passed. She felt Sherlock's eyes on her for the rest of the ride, but chose to ignore it. 

"Where are we?" she asked when the cabbie pulled up to a flat on Baker Street. 

"221B Baker Street, it's our flat. It's also where we work on cases," John told her as they came out. 

"So have there been similar murders?" she asked as Sherlock opened the door. 

"Two." John answered. 

"Sherlock, who is this?" an older lady asked as they walked into the flat. 

"Sibley Lawrence," she answered before Sherlock, giving the woman a small smile. 

She stepped onto the flat and looked around. It was a bit cluttered, but it somehow made her feel at home. Sitting on the mantel was a skull, right next to the hilt of a knife, the blade buried deep into the wood. The next thing she noticed was the large smiley face, bullet holes sitting inside of it. She tentively walked forward, taking everything in, brushing her fingers against the holes in the wall and the dust on the books. Her father had obviously only been living here a little over a year, so she wouldn't have grown up here, but most likely a similar setting. She tried to imagine herself running around the flat as a little girl, her nose in one of the many, old, informative books as she had always been that kind of kid. Being picked up before she could run into something dangerous or break one of Sherlock's artifacts. Giggling as her mom scolded Sherlock for shooting the wall. 

"What are you smiling at?" John's voice pulled her out of her daydreaming. She blushed, pointing her gaze to the old green carpet. 

"Sorry, just... Thinking," she said before looking up again and smiling. 

"Well if you could turn your thoughts to something more important," Sherlock waved a crime scene photo at her and she rolled her eyes, moving to the couch, taking the photo on the way, and falling into the cushions, tucking her feet underneath her. 

"Fine then, Mr. Holmes, let's get to work."


	3. Play Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rational side of her knew he was just frustrated he didn't have all of the answers, but the rational side never out screamed the anxious side. She whimpered, backing up into the chair and gripping the sides with white knuckles. He towered over her. Watched her with disdain. Like the dirt on his shoe.

A loud knock on the door jerked Sibley out of her sleep. The day before had been long, pouring over images and evidence with her father and his partner, finally stumbling in around two in the morning. Looking at her alarm clock she discovered, horrified, that she had slept in... Till 2:30.

"Oh my God!" she practically fell out of the bed as she scrambled to get dressed and ran to answer the door. 

"Molly? What are you doing here?" she asked, pulling on her tattered coat and closing the door behind her. 

"Oh, I came to see where you were. I was worried Sherlock had said something." she said.

"What do you mean?" she asked as she hailed a cab and told him where to go.

"He has a habit of being insulting. I thought maybe you were upset and that's why you weren't at work." she said. 

"No, no, Mr. Holmes was fine, bit annoying, but nothing I can't handle. I guess I'm just tired. Detective Lestrade isn't upset, is he?" she asked, clutching the end of her jumper in concern. 

"No, no, he was also worried, to be quite honest. Sherlock is unpredictable," Molly said. Sibley studied her and let a light smile tug at her lips. Molly had a crush. 

"Better to be unpredictable than boring," she pointed out. Molly giggled. 

"That's something he would say," she said. Sibley brightened at this. 

"Is it?" she asked. Molly nodded. Finally they pulled up to Scotland yard. 

"I'll see you later, yeah?" Sibley questioned, hovering in the doorway. 

"Yes, have fun at work," she waved and Sibley closed the door. The cab sped off in the direction of Barts Hospital and Sibley walked towards the office. 

"Ah, there you are, I was worried the freak had kidnapped you," Sally teased. 

"He's not a freak. Different, yes, but not a freak," Sibley defended. She felt her stomach turn when hearing her father be insulted. 

"Hmm, clearly you didn't spend very much time with him," she said. Sibley bit her lip and just walked away from her. 

"Detective Inspector?" she asked, leaning and knocking on his open office door. He looked up from some papers and smiled warmly at her. 

"Ah, there you are. How did Yesterday go?" he asked. 

"Fine. Mr. Holmes is quite the character," she said, a small smile on her face. 

"Definitely so. Well, he said he would like to see you again today. It's up to you," Lestrade said. She brightened, her smile growing. 

"He did? I would love too!" she exclaimed a bit too excitedly. Lestrade chuckled. 

"Strange, Sherlock seems to have taken a liking to you. He doesn't like many people," Lestrade said to her. 

"Oh," she had figured this. After spending time with him she had diagnosed him as a high functioning sociopath so this revelation didn't surprise her. The fact that Sherlock liked her did. She wouldn't have guessed it, he was a bit cold. Then again, she could tell the difference between a generally cold person and someone who's protecting themselves, Sherlock was the latter. 

"Thank you, sir. Should I go down to 221 Baker Street?" she questioned. He nodded and waved her off. She rushed out and to a cab, all too eager to see her father again. 

Father. She wasn't typically the person to hide things and be secretive. She had always assumed if she met her father, she'd be straight forward with him. Then she met Sherlock and she couldn't. She didn't know how to approach the topic or how he would react. He clearly despised feelings and attachment so would he be excepting of a daughter or would he push her away? Would he want anything to do with her once he found out who she was? Telling him held so many possibilities and outcomes she wouldn't prefer. She was safer with this secret. It was protection. After all, nobody liked to be rejected. 

The cabbie stopped and she hopped out, moving to the green door and clutching the knocker. The door swung open to reveal Mrs. Hudson, a large smile on her face. 

"Oh, hello dear! The boys left a bit ago, they should be back soon, why don't you wait upstairs?" Mrs. Hudson asked her. She nodded and went up to 221B and sat in her father's arm chair. 

It took all of 2 and half minutes for the young woman to get antsy. Needing to do something. Put her hands on something. She stood up again and walked around the flat, observing a little closer now. She looked through drawers and cupboards and rooms, trying to find something interesting. Surely there had to be something, the man was a consulting detective who thrived off of the strange cases in life. She read Doctor Watsons blog after getting home the night before. There was no way the man in the stories didn't have anything cool around. 

"Snooping?" Sherlock's baritone voice stopped her in her tracks. She closed the drawer she was looking in and turned around, smiling sheepishly. 

"S-sorry, Mr. Holmes. I was bored," she shrugged, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Both men smirked, seemingly amused. 

"Sherlock, I think you've met a mini you," John laughed. She sighed in relief when no one scolded her or threw her out. 

"Mr. Holmes, why do you keep heads and food in the same fridge? Couldn't you get another?" she asked. 

"Seriously? You found one of his severed heads and that's the question your asking?" John raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. 

"I've always wanted to experiment on things like that. Mr. Holmes has access to a morgue. Why not take advantage?" she asked. 

"Hm, someone who understands. John, I think it's time to replace you," Sherlock teased. 

"By all means. Your welcome to take my place Sibley, Sherlock is a piece of work," John scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes. 

"Now then, boys, play nice," Sibley snickered. Sherlock watched her for a second before speaking. 

"We are seeing clients today. Thought you'd like to join in. I couldn't bear the thought of someone of your intelligence fetching coffee." Sherlock said. She smiled at the compliment before realizing what he had said. 

"Clients? I thought we were on a case," she said. 

"Solved it this morning. You in or not?" he asked. 

"I-in, of course."

~~~

Two days later, another case solved, Sibley was high on excitement as she sat in the back of the cab, grinning like an idiot. John was smirking at her and Sherlock- he was watching her. She raised an eyebrow at him. He had been acting so strange for this case and he was beginning to make her uneasy. Once they got inside 221B and were all drinking evening tea, he spoke. 

"Who, are you, Sibley?" he asked.

"S-sorry?" she asked, cursing herself for stuttering. She really wished she could get rid of that habit but she couldn't help it.

"You're keeping a secret, what is it?" he asked. She could hear a hint of frustration in his demanding tone and she drew back in her chair a bit.

"Sherlock." John chided.

"What are you hiding?" Sherlock just repeated, voice more cold than she had yet heard it. 

"Oh- uh- I don't... I'm n-not an open book b-but I don't have a-any d-dark secrets," she felt her pulse begin to rise and her hands shake. Anxiety washing over her like a tidal wave.

"Sherlock, you're scaring her for christ sakes, drop it."

"Hush, John. This is important, Sibley. I don't trust you and I can't work with someone I don't trust," he said. She was confused, since he had been the one to ask her in the first place not too long before. She assumed he was just waiting for the right time.

"Mr. Holmes, p-please, I-I can't." she felt tears rising to her eyes.

"Can't what? Tell me? You must." he barked, standing.

The rational side of her knew he was just frustrated he didn't have all of the answers, but the rational side never out screamed the anxious side. She whimpered, backing up into the chair and gripping the sides with white knuckles. He towered over her. Watched her with disdain. Like the dirt on his shoe.

"I didn't d-do anything w-wrong." she cried.

"You were snooping when we got here, you've asked too many personal questions, and you knew things that I don't think you deduced. I don't think you're intelligent enough." he said. So that's what that was. None of it was because he liked her or thought she was helpful. No, Sherlock Holmes was too smart to be impressed by anyone else. Heck, he didn't even believe her. Maybe thought she was some kind of criminal.

"Sherlock!" John shouted as the girl began to cry, but the consulting detective just watched her impassively.

"It's not- I-it's not l-like tha-at. I d-didn't i- I d-don't-" she couldn't even form the sentence.

"Tell me!" he shouted.

"You're my father," she screeched, pulling the photo of him and her mother out of her jeans pocket and slamming it on the table before running out of the flat in tears.


	4. Feeling So Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her once bright eyes were now dull and sad, her hair was streaked with too much grey for her age, and she was clearly drunk. He looked past her to see the messy flat, covered in glass bottles and trash. Even from where he was standing, he could smell the stench of smoke and alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of point of view switches in this one, but it's for good reason!

Sibley felt so stupid. As she moved through the rain, make it easier to cry without getting caught, and feeling like she was the main character in a cliché movie, she really hated herself. First off, she should have known that the Sherlock Holmes didn't find her intelligent and didn't take interest in her. Second off, she shouldn't have expected him to be caring, to love her. Third off, she had been so terribly dramatic. Of course, Sherlock was being a jerk and dramatic as well, she had really taken things out of proportion. After her episode of constant stuttering and inability to speak, she had just screamed and stormed out like a child throwing a tantrum or a dramatic girlfriend. Yeah, she wasn't exactly her biggest fan right now and it didn't help that she had no money for a cab so the dreary rain soaked and flattened her dark, curly, locks, only making her more irritated and upset.

"Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You foolish girl." she chastised herself. The crying was only getting worse, as was the a he in her chest, so she rounded a corner and slid down the side of some Italian restaurants wall. She wrapped her arms around her knees and allowed herself to shake and sob, an action she typically refused to do, no matter how upset she was. She hated feeling weak. Feeling childish. She may have been considered a minor, but she truly wasn't a child. She had grown up quickly, dealt with adult issues like bills and work and taxes. Yet here she was feeling so small.

The sound of car tires slicing through water startled her, causing her to look over. There was a large black van sitting on the street next to where she was. She stood up, prepared to run if need be, as a man in a suit stepped out and opened the door, gesturing her inside. She looked at him with raised eyebrows, shaking her head.

"Miss Lawrence," a posh voice came from the car, she tilted her head to peak in and find another man in a suit sitting there, "I suggest you get in on your own merits, or my friends here will have force you," he said, voice impassive. She scanned over the man standing. He was certainly armed and certainly trained. She gulped and stepped forward.

~~~

John took half a second to decide which issue to address first as his shell-shocked flat mate picked up the photo. Whether or not this girl was truly his daughter didn't matter yet, what mattered is his manners that had clearly frightened the poor girl out of her wits. He turned and angry, threatening, glare on the consulting detective.

"Sherlock, what is wrong with you? That girl did nothing to deserve that treatment," he snapped.

"She was hiding something, I needed to know what," Sherlock said, voice lacking any remorse as he stared down at the photo. Sure enough it was one of the last photos he had taken with Bre Lawrence. A beautiful, kind woman, whom he found himself falling for. She was a genius. Not nearly as smart as the Holmes' but smarter than the rest of the normal people. She had sharp wit and the ability to get whatever she wanted from whomever she wanted and oh, how he had loved her. He did not want to love her. He really didn't. However, it didn't matter how many times he had repeated 'caring is not an advantage' to himself. He couldn't let her go. Then they took their intimacy to the next level and that was enough to terrify him. She was becoming so attached and he felt himself become attached and, in an effort to keep himself right, he packed his things and ran. It seemed he was wrong in thinking the past would never catch up to him. 

"Is she really your daughter?" John asked, still irritated but more curious.

"I believe so... Come on." he ordered, standing and rushing to the door, already pulling on that dramatic coat of his.

"Where are we going?" John asked, following him out of the flat and into the rain.

"To see an old flame."

~~~

Sibley watched the man next to her warily. Trying to deduce what she could. He clearly held an important role in the government, but most normal people could figure that out. He pretended not to notice her staring, which she appreciated, clearly he didn't care about her watching him. He didn't look all that threatening, but he didn't look like a puppy dog either. She wasn't in the best mind set at the moment, being distracted by how cold she was. The man seemed to notice her discomfort. 

"Turn the heat up, the poor child is shaking," he ordered to the front. Almost instantly, the warm car got warmer. She looked over at him. 

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Patience, dear," he said. She rolled her eyes but leaned back in her seat, deciding that if she was about to be torched and killed, she might as well enjoy her last few moments.

They arrived at a very nice looking home. It was large and beautiful and definitely cost a lot of money. No normal person lived in places like this. No, this was almost like a miniature palace. She startled when the doors on either side were opened and she hesitantly climbed out.

"No need to be so antsy I have no intentions of harming you," the man said, holding his open umbrella above them to keep the already wet girl from getting even worse. He led her into the house and a man approached them with a blanket. After a moment of staring from the two men to the blanket, her cold got the better of her and she took it, wrapping it around her body.

The man led her into what seemed to be the den and gestured to the couch. She sat down and looked up at him. He smiled at her.

"Miss Sibley Kyna Lawrence, daughter to Breanna Lawrence. Grew up in London has worked in many different places, dropped out of school last year, and now takes care of the household and her mother. Supposedly the daughter of Sherlock Holmes." he said.

"How do you kn-know that?" she asked, fear starting to creep in.

"Well, if your allegations are correct, I'm your uncle," he said, now sitting in the arm chair across from the sofa. She blinked. What? The same man that brought her a blanket came out with tea and biscuits, setting them down on a table in the middle of the sofas before leaving again.

"Tea?" the mysterious, unnamed, apparent Holmes, asked.

"No thank you. Don't want to be poisoned," she muttered. He smiled with amusement at her.

"Of course, caution is always wise." he said.

"What did you say your name was?" she asked, feeling herself relax a bit. 

"Mycroft Holmes," he said.

"And what did you want with me?" she asked.

"Well, dear, let's talk about your mother."

~~~

Sherlock banged on the door until it finally swung open, revealing his ex lover. Sherlock didn't recognize her at first. Her once bright eyes were now dull and sad, her hair was streaked with too much grey for her age, and she was clearly drunk. He looked past her to see the messy flat, covered in glass bottles and trash. Even from where he was standing, he could smell the stench of smoke and alcohol.

"What are you doing here?" she bit angrily "She's mine you can't have her! Go away!" the drunk woman began to pound on his chest and he grabbed her wrists stopping her. She stared at him with bloodshot, dark eyes. He just shoved her in, too angry to care about her at the moment and quickly spun around, taking I never inch of the place.

"Sherlock," John said, looking around the place in concern for the young girl he had already begun to like.

"I know, John..." he turned back to the mother of his child, who was watching him, leaning on the wall. After a moment of watching her, he shook his head, and stormed right back out, John following.

"Sherlock, you aren't going to let her keep living there, are you?" John asked.

"Of course not."

~~~

"What about her?" Sibley asked, narrowing her eyes. Her mother was a sore subject she didn't typically speak about. This stranger, uncle or not, didn't have any right to pry into her personal life.

"She's fallen into some bad habits, hasn't she? How long has she been unemployed?" Mycroft asked.

"I don't see how it's any of your business," she snapped.

"You don't have to tell me, dear, I can easily find out myself." he said.

"What does it even matter?!" she asked.

"Your mother is incompetent of raising a child you should not be in that environment. You should be raised by someone capable." Mycroft said. She stood abruptly.

"You don't get to make that decision. I'm not going into any system. I can take care of myself." she barked, any nervousness she had replaced with rage.

"No one said anything about the system, please quit with the dramatics." he said.

"Says Mr. Get in the big black car or my friend here will beat you up." she said, crossing her arms.

"Fair enough." he stated.

"I'm staying with my mother," she said. It wasn't that she cared for her mother that much or enjoyed being around her, but she didn't want to go into the system. She didn't want to have to be forced to rely on and obey someone else, she had been taking care of herself for so long, she was fine.

"Well, it seems to me it's a bit too late for that. My brother has taken care of that already." she didn't know when he had brought his phone out, but he was looking at it now.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"It means, Miss Lawrence, that social services and the police are already looking for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a complete plan for this book now! *cheers* I'm honestly so excited, and I'm probably going to do a sequel, I'm trying not to think about that to much seeing as in only at the beginning of this book, but it's a struggle XD. I really think you guys are going to like it and I have many twists and turns. There is one point where it'll seem like it's about to be a typical Sherlock has a daughter book, but it's not, I promise. I'm so so so excited!!! Let me know your thoughts!


	5. Fairytale In Her Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John turned to his friend after the moody teenager had disappeared. He was surprised. She was so sweet and mature he had forgotten her age while they had worked together. Just then, though, there was no doubt in his mind she was a teenager. He imagined she didn't often let herself act like that, so his initial assumption was Sherlock had done something.

At times like this, Sibley hated silence. It was a cliché, but at times like this, silence was louder than the London traffic outside of the cab. Silence was louder than Sherlock Holmes irritating breathing. Silence was loud. She tried to focus on anything other than the man next to her. Anything other than the thought of her mother and the new turn of events. She watched the cars pass by like shooting stars. Imagined who might be in them. Families, with a mum and a dad and siblings who bicker but never let anyone else mess with the other. Imagined them going by a daily schedule. Back home to have a quiet family dinner. To tell stories and have bed time.

That story, the fairytale in her mind, was far different than the situation at hand. Sure, she was going home with her father, but this was far different. They would get there and finally have a conversation at one point or another, John would probably shake his head at Sherlock and be the welcoming one, then she would go to bed without being told goodnight and wondering why she was there in the first place. Why the man who had been yelling at her several hours earlier and being a complete prick was now taking her into his home.

She thought back to the scene they had just been at. Cops crawling around the place, looking for all of her mothers drugs. Sherlock and Greg waiting for her. They explained that her mother had been arrested and upon further investigation and realizing Sibley had been the caretaker in the house for years, decided she was unfit to be the guardian even after she got out of prison. Then they told her she'd be moving in with Sherlock, he'd be fostering her until he was approved for adoption. She didn't want this. She didn't need to be taken care of. Especially not by Sherlock. He hadn't told anyone why he was taking her in and she kept her mouth shut as well. Why he was taking her in when he clearly didn't want anything to do with her, she wasn't sure. 

The cab pulled up outside of Baker Street and Sherlock instantly climbed out. She just stared up at it. She would be entering it as an official resident now. With this intriguing, infuriating, prideful, man. She didn't want too. Before she had wanted nothing more, but now? She couldn't bring herself to move. Sherlock turned upon realizing Sibley was not behind him and he sighed, irritated, walking back to the cab.

"Do take your time," he snipped. She blinked and looked over at him.

"If you have such a problem with me, let this cabbie take me back home," she insisted. He let out another frustrated huff.

"It's a bit too late for that, isn't it? Come on," he ordered. She grumbled to herself as she pushed her way out of the cab and stormed up to the flat, throwing the door open without bothering to knock and stomping upstairs. Yes she had raised herself. Yes she could be incredibly professional and act like a little adult, but she could also act like a child, and right now, she had no problem with that. Maybe he'd get tired of her and kick her out if she acted up enough.

"Oh, hello Sibley," John gave her a sympathetic smile, knowing he situation as he had made Sherlock keep him updated.

"Where am I staying?" she asked tiredly.

"Oh, yes, I'd imagine you'd like to rest, come on, I'll show you." he moved to show her another room just as Sherlock finally got up the stairs. She rolled her eyes and walked into the small room slamming the door behind her.

She wasn't sure why she was so annoyed. This had been what she wanted originally. When she first found the picture of Sherlock she imagined moving in with him so she could continue school and eventually go to college. Now she was just pissed. He wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't what she wanted.

John turned to his friend after the moody teenager had disappeared. He was surprised. She was so sweet and mature he had forgotten her age while they had worked together. Just then, though, there was no doubt in his mind she was a teenager. He imagined she didn't often let herself act like that, so his initial assumption was Sherlock had done something.

"What did you do this time?" he hissed.

"Nothing!" he insisted, falling into his chair, annoyed.

"Clearly you did something," he said.

"She doest want to live here, John. She doesn't want to live with me," he said.

"Well did you apologize for earlier?" he asked. Sherlock looked at him, appalled.

"Well, she was hiding something, wasn't she? I was right," he said. John leaned his head back and groaned.

"Sherlock, she's the one who didn't do anything wrong. You treated her terribly and you need to apologize." John insisted, wagging his finger at him. Sherlock made a noise of an agitated child not getting their way and fell onto his chair, pouting.

"No," John said, pointing "no, Sherlock, you cannot do this. Not with her." he said. Sherlock just pulled the violin out of its case and began to rosin the bow. John through up his arms in exaggeration and walked upstairs to the young girls room. He knocked on the door and after a muffled 'come in' he opened it and walked in. Sibley sat with her legs crossed on the white comforter on the once guest bed. She was staring down at a novel, but clearly hadn't been paying it any attention. 

"Sorry about him, he's a bit of prick. Are you hungry?" he asked. She sighed, closing the book without bothering to mark her place and looked up at him.

"Don't apologize for him, he's not your responsibility. As for food, I'm famished." she replied. Here was the adult in her he had worked with. Though, this version was a bit more cold, too much emotion had made her close herself off. This was certainly a Sherlock move.

"Right, I think I'll order some take out then, any requests?" he asked.

"Anything will do," she answered. He gave her a nod, lips pressed together awkwardly, and walked out of the room again.

~~~

When Sibley came out of her room that morning, the other two residents of 221B were already awake. Sherlock was at a desk, looking at a computer screen, John was sipping his tea as he read the paper. He looked up upon seeing her and frowned. Her flannel pajama bottoms sat a few inches above her ankle, her t-shirt on the other hand was swallowing her tiny frame, a large coffee colored stain was painfully visible in the bottom corner.

She didn't seem to notice John watching her as she plopped down onto the sofa and opened the novel that had been in her hand. John cleared his throat and she peered up at him over the pages.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked her. She shook her head and looked back down at the book. She didn't have work today as Lestrade ordered her to take time off and had now lessened her hours so she could focus on schooling. She wasn't pleased. 

"I've found you a school," Sherlock said, not looking up from the computer.

"Great," she replied, monotone.

"You'll need new clothes. Sherlock, maybe you should take her shopping later," John coaxed his friend. Sherlock looked over at him in annoyance but he only gestured to the oblivious girl still emerged in her book on the couch. Sherlock took in her appearance rather quickly and heaved a frustrated sigh before closing his laptop.

"Go get dressed, Sibley," he ordered. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why?"

"Why do you think? I'm taking you shopping, go." he said. She scowled at the command, snapping her book shut and moving up the stairs. She really didn't like being told what to do.

While she was changing in her room Sherlock's mobile began to ring. He held it to his ear and briefly spoke with Lestrade before hanging up.

"We have a case, John," he said as Sibley re-emerged in another stained t-shirt and tight jeans.

"I thought you were taking Sibley shopping," there was a hint of warning in his partners tone. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet tossing it at her. Her eyes widened at the unexpected movement and she fumbled to catch it.

"I'm sure you can manage." he said. She held the bulky leather item in her small hands and looked at him in surprise, her moody teenager act dissipating for a moment as she nodded. She didn't shop for clothes ever. She wore her own old clothing, hand me downs from Molly, and other incredibly cheap, old, things. She couldn't afford the luxury of shopping for clothes. She wouldn't know where to start.

"Just tell the cabbie to take you to a clothing shop. There's plenty of money, you're fine," Sherlock said, understanding her confused face. He didn't give her a chance to respond before he pulled on his bellstaff and exited the flat. John gave her a small smile.

"He's right, though. There's enough money, treat yourself," it almost seemed to her like he was begging.

"O-okay," she said, and with that, he left.

~~~

"You okay?" a shop worker appeared next to Sibley, smiling with amusement. She had an Irish lilt in her voice. 

"What? Uh, y-yeah, sorry," Sibley stuttered.

"No need to apologize, love, you just look a little lost. Need some help?" she asked.

"Dunno. To be honest I don't really know what I'm d-doing," she blushed, looking at her feet. The shop worker gave her a comforting smile, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. The badge on her shirt said her name was 'Amber'. Sibley scanned her body taking in some of her traits. Bottled blonde, her roots were brown, she clearly had money according to the brands of clothing, she didn't really need this job. It was a Tuesday so typically someone of her age would be in school, Sibley didn't think she was out because she needed to work. Her parents probably had money from intelligence, it must have passed down, she probably graduated early or was at least ahead and therefore taking online classes giving her time to work. The job she probably had due to her parents wanting her to have work ethic.

"Alright, I'll help you pick some stuff out, I'm Amber," her smile was bright. She may have had money, but she was kind.

"Sibley." she replied. 

"So then, Sibley, why aren't you in school?" Amber asked, pulling out a dark purple blouse from the rack.

"Oh, uh, just moved," she said. 

"Ah, yeah, I'm-" 

"Taking online classes, you're ahead about a year... Oh I'm so sorry," Sibley was extremely flustered and uncomfortable, when she got like that, she couldn't control her mouth. To her surprise, Amber smiled slightly. 

"Now, how'd you know that? You're not stalking me are you?" she teased. At this point she was holding about five different shirts. 

"N-no. Your clothes say rich, don't need to take off school for work. You posture is a bit hunched, shows you spend a lot of time at a computer. Your nails are also well groomed and painted but not long like most people with money like to do, you need to keep them short to type." Sibley fired off deductions and then frowned, ready for Amber to shout at her and call her a freak. 

"That's impressive!" her eyes were widened in excitement. 

"R-really?" she asked. 

"Yeah! That's so cool! Anyways, here, why don't you try these on," she shoved the shirts and pants into Sibley's arms and shuffled her into a dressing room. As Sibley was changing and looking at herself in the mirror, Amber spoke through the door. 

"So you're new around here? Any friends?" she asked. 

"Well, sort of, not really, I don't know." Sibley sighed. 

"I get off in about fifteen minutes if you'd want me to take you to some more shops. Show you around." Amber suggested. Sibley froze. She had never really hung out with anyone her age. Even when she was in school, she didn't have many friends. She was bullied and ostracized. 

"Um, sure, yeah."

~~~

"So your dad is the Sherlock Holmes?" Amber asked later as they sat at lunch. 

"Uh, yeah," Sibley rolled her eyes, tossing a chip in her mouth. She and Amber had spent hours together and eventually, Sibley had pretty much told the girl her life story.

"Is her hard to get along with?" she asked.

"So far yeah, and I haven't even known him for that long." she said. Amber chuckled.

"I bet. I've read John Watson's blog. He sounds to be a bit eccentric." she said. This caused Sibley to laugh.

"Eccentric. Yeah. That's the word." she giggled. Amber grinned and Sibley found herself returning the smile. She hadn't enjoyed herself like this in a while and Amber was a nice girl who was her age. She couldn't remember the last time she had an actual friend.

"Well, listen, I need to go, I have to get some schoolwork done. I'll give you my number," she said, standing. Sibley blinked.

"Oh, uh, I don't have a phone," she said. Amber shrugged and began to write her number on a napkin.

"Well tell your dad to get you one, and text me," she said. Sibley nodded and waved, picking up her shopping bags and getting ready to leave herself.

When the cab arrived at 221B she trudged up the stairs and into her flat, dropping the two shopping bags on the floor. John and Sherlock looked up from the photos they were looking at.

"Is that all you got?" John asked, nodding to them.

"It's all I need," she replied. There were two pairs of jeans, three shirts, and a pair of converse she found on sale. John looked at Sherlock who only shrugged and went back to looking at the photos.

"What's this new case?" she asked.

"Nothing," Sherlock said, giving her a warning glare.

"What? I can't join?" she asked.

"No. You can't. I don't need a teenager holding me back." he said.

"That's not what you said for the last two!" she exclaimed.

"I was letting you in so that I could figure you out. That's its." Sherlock said.

"No. I did good. I was helpful!" she insisted.

"You barely scratched the surface with your deductions and I had beaten you to every realization you had. You're slow and unintelligent." he said.

"Sherlock!" John shouted. Her eyes were wide and she was taken aback. She clenched her jaw and turned to rush up the stairs and into her room.

She grabbed the pillow on her bed and buried her face into it. Her teeth were gritting against each other tighter and tighter as she willed herself not to cry. She didn't cry, she just didn't. She was practically and adult who dealt with a drug addict mother, worked jobs, paid bills. She dealt with a lot and it never made her cry so she was not going to let Sherlock Holmes get to her.

She was feeling herself begin to lose her breath, but she refused to do anything about it. She had to control her emotions first. She pushed the inferior feeling down. In her imagination she dragged Sherlock Holmes by the ear into a closet and shoved him in it. She began to collect all the drugs off the floor and throw them into another room among with the image of her mother in jail. She took every hurtful word and locked that away too. She swept any remaining emotion away and opened her eyes. 

She pulled her head up from the pillow and took in a large gulp of air. She could feel color coming back to her face as she breathed. She was fine. She was fine.


	6. Two Stubborn Gits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The men she lived with looked up at her exhausted form. Her skirt and hair were askew from the wind, her shirt was now coming untucked, and her eyes were now closed.

She felt like an idiot. The navy blue skirt was honestly too high, showing way to much of her legs, the black dress shoes were uncomfortable and bit it to her skin. The entire thing was terrible, she felt like an idiot. She growled at the mirror before turning and moving into the living room. 

"Seriously? I feel stupid in this." she complained, crossing her arms. Sherlock peered up at her and smirked. The stupid tosser was finding this amusing. It made her want to bash his head in. She composed herself and grabbed her school bag. 

"Can I have money for a cab?" she asked. He grabbed his wallet a pulled out a few pounds, waving them at her. She snatched them from him and stomped out the door. What a knob that man was. A week living with him and she already wanted to tear his head off. He was such a prat.

"Someone's in a good mood," Amber was leaning against the wall outside of 221B holding two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. Sibley had been borrowing John's phone to text her. 

"Its Sherlock, he's being an arse again," she huffed, taking one of the cups from her. 

"Come on, he can't be that bad." she said. 

"He told me last night that there was no way I was making it to Cambridge because I was too daft," she seethed. Amber scoffed. 

"The little wanker..." she muttered, causing Sibley to chuckle and shake her head. 

"Now I have to go to this stupid school in this stupid uniform for a man who thinks I myself am stupid. I also have to take year ten classes since I'm behind. This entire thing is a mess." she huffed, hailing a cab.

"It's only a year behind, I'm sure you can catch up if you wanted. Maybe you'll like it, maybe you'll make a friend," Amber offered. 

"Amber, you're the only friend I've had since I was six, it's not that easy for me," Sibley sighed as they climbed into the cab and she directed the cabbie. 

"Oh, come on, you're great, who wouldn't want to be your friend?"

"Sherlock Holmes." she replied. 

"Sib, it's not going to help if you spend the whole day thinking about how angry you are with him. Just get through the day," Amber said. She nodded, sighing as they pulled up to the school.

"Thanks for accumpaning me. Wish me luck," she said.

"Good luck, I'll see you tonight?" she asked. Sibley nodded, paid the cabbie and exited the cab. Here goes nothing. 

~~~

Sibley walked into her flat, dropped her bag, and slid onto the floor. The men she lived with looked up at her exhausted form. Her skirt and hair were askew from the wind, her shirt was now coming untucked, and her eyes were now closed. 

"I just had the worst day of my life. First I had to to sit around a bunch of fifteen year olds who don't know anything. Second I had to deal with obnoxious teenagers and their idiotic pestering. Lastly I just ran from a man who felt like it was okay to run his hands up this stupid skirt. It's hard to run in this stupid skirt. He tried to get me in his car. He wouldn't leave me alone." she rambled, not bothering to open her eyes.

"What?!" John stood angrily. Now her eyelids fluttered opened as she stared at the angry man. 

"Yeah, not sure where I lost him, but he's gone now." she said.

"We'll have Mycroft look at the cameras, we'll find him." John said. Sherlock's face was blank as he watched them. His phone beeped and he looked down at it before standing. 

"No need, he already caught him." he said, walking towards the door. 

"Where are you going?" John asked him. 

"Out." the door closed behind him and the two left looked at each other. 

"Whatever. Of course he doesn't care." she sighed standing up and walking back into her room. 

John stood alone and sighed, shaking his head. Sherlock Holmes really needed to get his act together. 

~~~

"Mycroft!" Sherlock insisted as his older brother continued to shake his head. 

"No, brother, I'm not letting you indulge in some fight based off of emotions. He's just another predator and he's off the streets," Mycroft said, the picture of calm. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to pin the man that tried to take his daughter to the floor and make him bleed, but Mycroft was being annoyingly stubborn. 

"To be honest, I wasn't sure you'd care. You haven't been the best of father figures, have you?" Mycroft asked. 

"You're the one who says sentiment is a weakness," he grimaced. 

"You have a responsibility to her, Sherlock," Mycroft replied. 

"I'm not discussing how to raise my child with you. Goodbye, brother mine." with that Sherlock angrily stormed out. 

Emotion had never been Sherlock's forte and he had been dealing with more than his fair share of it lately. Seeing Bre again, finding out he had a daughter, it was too much for the normally logical man. He passed Baker Street and continued to walk, lost in thought. 

~~~

Sibley paced in front of her mirror, scissors in her hands. Sometimes she did this. She became spontaneous, would feel a lack of control, and decide to change something. Do something she did have control over. Not the mention this would help with originality in the whole uniform situation. She glanced at the blue box on her dresser, then to the scissors, then to the mirror, and smirked. She raised the silver appliance to her hair right above her shoulders and began to snip. 

Two hours later, her hair was cut right above her shoulders and dyed blue. She loved the new look. Grinning as she grabbed locks of her hair and ran her small fingers through it. The curls were still refusing to calm, but that was fine, she was good at taking care of her hair. She heard John calling her, probably for dinner, and went downstairs. 

Sherlock and John were talking quietly and didn't notice her at first. She grabbed a plate and began to pile food on it. 

"Sibley?" John was looking at her with surprise, as was Sherlock. 

"Yeah, the old cut was getting boring. Stop staring." she said, plopping down at a chair and pushing her father's experiments back to give her room. Sibley had become much more snarky and open with the two lately. Her original stuttering was almost non-existent around them, mainly, she was just angry with Sherlock all the time. Not that anyone could blame her, the man was insufferable. 

"Your school won't like it," John said. 

"Then maybe they'll kick me out and I won't have to deal with it anymore," she replied. He rolled his eyes and looked over to Sherlock, who said nothing. Right. He had two stubborn gits to live with now. 

"We'll see."


	7. Sober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah, he's pretty much the same now. Though, I haven't seen any drugs with him, same can't be said for you, so you really have no reason to talk," she scowled.

Sibley had never really gotten along with kids her age. She was different, smarter, unique. That being said, it was no surprise the other adolescents she went to school with didn't like her. In the weeks she began going there, they had taken to bullying. Freak was a popular name she was used to being called and it didn't hurt, it was just annoying at this point. Couldn't they at least think of something clever? 

In any case, she dealt with it, she didn't care. There was a group of specific boys, year 12s, who were always on her case. Getting close, flirting while also insulting. It was clear she was just a joke to them. Something to be used. She spent many days trying to shove her way through them as they would try and touch her and tease her. God, she hated Highschool. 

She opened up her locker, trying to quickly put away her things and grab what she needed for home when someone came up behind her as she slammed it shut. She turned to see him right up in her space. Charlie Travis. 

"Hey, bitch," he smirked. 

"W-w-what do you w-want?" she stuttered, trying to shrink back into her locker. 

"I wanted to see what it's like to be with a freak. I'm sure you have some interesting moves," he said, moving his hand up her bare arm. She tried to move away from him but now his friends were all there too.

"L-leave me alone," she said. She was now surrounded by guys, nowhere to move. 

"Come on, baby, don't be like that," another guy grabbed at her breasts. She swatted him away. She didn't like it. She didn't like being touched like that by them. 

"P-please, I n-need to go home," she begged. 

"You can go home with me," another guy grabbed and pulled a lock of her hair. They all laughed allowed her to push her way through, hot tears pouring down her cheeks as she ran across the school yard and quickly hailed a cab. 

She ran into St. Barts down to the morgue where Molly was working alone. She looked up upon hearing the teenager enter and frowned when she saw her. Sibley's clothes and hair were awry from the struggle and she was still shaking and crying. Molly stood instantly and ran over to envelop her in a hug. She comforted her and allowed her to calm down before she explained everything. 

"You need to tell your dad, Sibley. It needs to stop." Molly insisted when she was done talking. 

"N-no, he doesn't c-c-care, it's fine, I -I can handle it." she said. Molly frowned, but Sibley was stubborn and she knew there was no point in trying to argue with her, still Molly was concerned. 

"Alright, let's take a cab back to Baker Street," she said. Sibley waved her off and began to compose herself, taking the image of a group of boys pushing her around and shoving it into a closet in her mind. 

"I'm fine. I can take a cab on my own. Thank you." her voice was formal and lacked emotion. Once again, Molly was reminded of Sherlock and wondered why she didn't see the resemblance sooner. She watched as Sibley grabbed her bag and turned, walking out of the morgue. 

~~~

"You sure you're okay? You've been acting weird lately." Amber said as they stood in the shelves of books at the book store. Now that she didn't have to pay bills and such, the money from her job at the station went towards things she actually wanted. 

"I'm fine, it's just the kids at school. They've been getting on my nerves," she said. Amber frowned. 

"I'm sorry, I wish I could do something," she said. Sibley just shook her head. 

"Don't worry about it. I can handle myself." she replied, "Besides, they're right," 

"About what?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. 

"I'm a freak and a weirdo. Don't know why anyone would even want to be around me," she sighed, shaking her head. 

"Hey," Amber put a hand on Sibley's shoulder and she looked up, blue eyes meeting brown, "don't say that, you're amazing," her voice was soft. Sibley blinked, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

"Thanks," she whispered. Amber nodded and dropped her hand. 

"So, have you read the Harry Potter series?" 

~~~

When Sibley finally got home that night, the flat was empty. She walked over to the fridge and looked around all of the body parts. Nothing. She gripped the handle with white knuckles, this scene was a familiar one. She closed it again and shook her head. No, they were just behind on shopping, it was fine. Honestly, maybe her mother was the source of all her problems. The reason she was the way she was, thought the way she thought. 

She slammed the fridge door, grabbed her bag, and pulled on a coat. She rushed down the stairs and to the busy streets of London. The cold air tossled her short hair as she weaved through crowds of people and to her destination. 

Sibley arrived and went through the required process before being led to a room lined with chairs and windows. She sat on one and waited for her mother to be dragged out. 

Bre Lawrence had dark bags under eyes, her grey speckled blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, but her eyes were clear. She was sober. 

"Sibley," she said, a slight rasp to her voice after all of the cigarettes. 

"Mum... How's prison?" she asked.

"Rough. Apparently buying and selling illigal drugs is enough to be in here for a while," she said. 

"I haven't seen you sober in awhile." Sibley sighed, scanning her mother. Bre frowned and looked down.

"I know." she said. 

"I'm living with Sherlock now," she said. 

"I figured. I never wanted you with him. He's not a good man, Sib." she said. 

"So far he's better than you." she said. 

"When I knew Sherlock, he was going all sorts of drugs too. On top of that he was an arrogant prick obsessed with murder." Bre's normal hostile tone was now back as she spoke of her ex lover. 

"Yeah, he's pretty much the same now. Though, I haven't seen any drugs with him, same can't be said for you, so you really have no reason to talk," she scowled. 

"Why are you here Sibley? Come to rub this in my face?" her mother spat. 

"I came to see if you were still my mother when the drugs and alcohol was gone but I think she's lone gone." she replied. 

"Good. I never wanted to be your mother anyways," the woman growled. Sibley slammed the phone where it belonged and walked away, leaving her mother to stare after her. It was a bad idea, but she had to see. Had to know. Now she did, her mother was always going to be a bitter old woman, and Sherlock had been a drug addict. Suspicions confirmed. 

~~~

Sibley was in a bad mood. Sibley had been in a bad mood a lot lately. As she slammed her locker shut and turned she wasn't surprised, or happy, to see the normal group of guys standing there, waiting. She tried to go around them, to get away, she really didn't want to deal with them at the time, but they wouldn't leave. She walked outsife and they all followed her. 

"Leave me the hell alone you creeps," she snapped, to angry to be nervous. 

"Excuse me, bitch? Don't talk to us like that," Charlie shoved her against the brick wall. She groaned as she hit her head. 

"I'm tired of waiting, Charlie, it's Friday now, let's just take her." one of the minions said. 

"Wanna go for a ride, sweetheart?" Charlie asked her, shoving her again. 

"N-no." she stuttered. 

"Come on, you'd be lucky to have us, babe," another said. 

"Leave m-me alone. I don't l-like you," she insisted. Charlie drew back and socked her in the face. 

"Shut up. We'll tell you when you can speak, bitch," he spat before punching her again. She stumbled back and fell onto the ground. 

"Come on, we'll have fun tonight," another said, kicking her. They all joined in, punching and kicking. She heard someone shouting and felt all of the boys begin to run away right as she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know, it's a bit short, starting here, chapters will range in size, some will be a bit short, others will be longer. Sorry if you're like me and hate short chapters, it's just how my planning turned out! I am super excited for you guys to see everything play out! Let me know what you think! I love feedback!


	8. Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock stared down at his daughter. Her right eye was swollen and purple, blue hair surrounded her head like a pastel halo, her breathing was irregular, she was obviously having trouble, probably due to the fractured ribs. Her visible skin was littered in bruised layered over, you couldn't see where they stopped and ended. John shook his head as he stared down at her. Who would do something like that?

Sherlock was on his computer when his phone began to ring next to him.

"John, phone," he said, staring intently at the computer.

"It's right next to you, Sherlock," John grumbled.

"I'm busy," he said. John huffed and got up to answer it.

"Hello?" he asked, irritated.

"Hello, is this Mr. Holmes?" a woman asked on the other side.

"Er, no this is his flat mate," John replied.

"Could you put him on the phone? It's about his daughter, Sibley, there's been an issue," she said. John turned to his friend, concern gripping his insides for the youngest Holmes.

"Sherlock, it's about Sibley," he said. Sherlock looked up at him and slowly held his hand out for the phone.

"Sherlock Holmes," he answered.

"Mr. Holmes, this is Anna Johnson the headmaster of your daughter's highschool. It appears she was cornered by a group of other students today and attacked. I can assure you they have all been expelled, but Sibley has been hurt rather badly. She's in Barts Hospital at the moment," she explained. Sherlock had a white knuckle grip on the mobile.

"How bad is it?" he asked, to most people, they wouldn't hear the fear in his voice, but John did. 

"It's really best if you could get down here so the doctor could explain it," the woman said. Sherlock swallowed.

"We will be there in ten minutes." he hung up and stood, John nodded, and the two of them went to catch a cab.

"Where is Sibley Lawrence?" Sherlock asked the moment they got in the hospital. The front desk worker quickly spouted off a room number and the man turned again, desperate to get to his daughter.

"Mr. Holmes?" a doctor asked right as they arrived. He had clearly just come from the room Sibley was being kept in. Sherlock composed himself, straightening up and hardening is expression.

"Yes. What is her condition?" he asked, the picture of calm.

"Well, a few broken ribs, a black eye, fractured left collarbone, a severe concussion, and many, many, cuts, scrapes, and other bruises. When she's up and moving again we'll put her in a sling to support her left collar bone, we've stitched up the worst of the cuts, I'll have a nurse explain how to properly take care of them later as well as her other injuries. Miss Lawrence is asleep at the moment but you're free to go in whenever." the Doctor explained. Sherlock didn't waste any time on manners, just turned and walked into the room. John shot him a quick smile and thank you before following his partner.

Sherlock stared down at his daughter. Her right eye was swollen and purple, blue hair surrounded her head like a pastel halo, her breathing was irregular, she was obviously having trouble, probably due to the fractured ribs. Her visible skin was littered in bruised layered over, you couldn't see where they stopped and ended. John shook his head as he stared down at her. Who would do something like that?

"Why do you think this happened?" he asked.

"Why do you think, John? They were bullies who had nothing better to do." Sherlock bit before storming out of the room. John frowned, looking back down at the young, injured, girl, and decided to let her rest.

~~~

Mycroft Holmes was referred to as the iceman for a reason. He had a cold exterior and cared for very, very, few. However, those he did care for, he protected with everything he had, even if his ways were a bit unorthodox. He didn't know Sibley very well- personally, anyways, the moment he found out he had a niece he of course gathered Intel and information on her- but he cared for her. She was his only niece, a young, impressionable, girl and he'd be damned if he let anyone get to her. The idea that these idiotic teenagers had done what they had done, infuriated him.

Anthea was a gem. She gave him no questioning or doubtful looks when asked to help with this specific task. Now she stood next to him staring down at six 17 and 18 year olds boys with a smirk on her face. Mycroft Holmes, however rare, could be impulsive at times.

"You can't do this!" Charlie shouted, wiggling in his binds, a terrified glint in his eyes.

"Oh, Charles, I most certainly can. Now, can you tell me why you're here?" he asked.

"I don't know, man, I didn't do anything," he insisted.

"Oh but you did, you see, that girl you decided to outnumber and corner today at school happens to be under the protection of some very important, vengeful, people." Mycroft gave the boy an evil grin.

"Yes, brother mine, she most certainly is," Sherlock Holmes burst in and stormed into the room.

"Took you long enough," Mycroft snarked.

"You mean Sibley? That little skank?" another one of the boys asked. Sherlock walked over to him and socked him in the face, holding his chair down so that he didn't fall back.

"Now, now, brother, don't be so rash, we're just going to chat with them." Mycroft scolded.

"I'll do what I want," Sherlock said, rolling up the sleeves to his dress shirt.

"Look, man, we didn't mean to stir up any trouble," another boy said.

"Well you did, by messing with the wrong person. How shall we deal with this? Hm, perfectly good place down in Antarctica I think you boys would very much enjoy," Mycroft stated.

"You can't just send us away. What will our parents say?" Charlie asked.

"What they've already said. They're very proud that their sons were chosen to serve their country in this way." Mycroft said.

"Before we send them anywhere, brother, I need an hour." Sherlock insisted.

"Oh, you always did solve all of your issues with violence or drugs. Very well, I'll be back in one hour. Good day, boys." and with that a smirking Mycroft and Anthea exited the building.

~~~

Sibley let out a large groan. Her head was throbbing. She was hurting everywhere. Her eyes fluttered open against the harsh light. She shifted in the bed, only moaning in pain again. 

"Careful," Sherlock was by her side in seconds, easing her back down into the bed.

"It hurts," she complained. Sherlock glanced at the morphine levels and considered bumping it up some. It would certainly help with the pain, but it was addictive for some people and Sibley had two drug addict parents. Then again, Sibley was stronger than the both of them combined. He decided the pale, agonized look on his daughters face was one he didn't want to see and he upped the levels a bit. 

"I'm such a failure." she sighed, closing her eyes.

"What?" Sherlock asked, furrowing his eyebrows. 

"I shouldn't have been so weak. I should have been able to stop them or get away." she said. He sighed.

"They cornered you. There was nothing you could have done." Sherlock's voice was monotone, but the emotion was still clear. She just nodded and they sat in silence for several moments. 

"How long?" he asked. She didn't have to ask what he meant. 

"Since school started," she replied, not looking at him. Foolish. She felt so foolish. 

Sherlock sighed. Weeks. Several weeks his daughter had been being bullied and he had no idea. He couldn't really make any excuses either, it wasn't like he just missed it, no, he hadn't been paying attention. He was a genius, had he been being an actual parent and spending time with her and talking to her, he would have seen it in an instant. The signs in those kinds of situations are always extremely visible, and he hadn't looked. She thought she was a failure, but in Sherlock's eyes, he was the one who failed. 

"Have they hurt you every time?" he asked. She shook her head and instantly regretted it as a sharp pain bit into her neck. 

"Uh, n-no. No. They've... Touched me before, silly little things, but, until now, they weren't physically violent," she explained. Sherlock clenched his fists. They touched her. They touched her. He should have asked for two hours instead. He stood up. 

"Get some rest." with that, he turned and walked out the door. 

~~~

Sherlock felt a stabbing pain in his stomach as he realized this was the first time he had ever heard Sibley full out laugh. It was the day after she told him more about the bullies and he was in the hallway, walking towards her room, and she began to laugh at something. He should have heard it at some point in the weeks of her living with him, but he hadn't. He pushed her door open to find a blonde girl sitting on Sibley's bed, the two of them laughing. Sibley didn't laugh long, as it hurt her ribs. 

"S-stop it h-hurts," she was crying. Crying and laughing. Only, the tears clearly weren't just from laughing too hard, she really was in pain. Sherlock was by her side In an instant, moving up her morphine and trying to calm her down. She stopped finally and began to breathe. 

"Sorry, love," the blonde teenager cringed, a guilty glint in her eyes. 

"No, it's alright," Sibley shot her a friend a smile. 

"Oh! Sherlock, this is Amber. Amber, this is Sherlock," she introduced. 

"Hello, Mr. Holmes! Amber Brooke." the girl said, holding her hand out for him to shake. He took it slowly. 

"How did you two meet?" Sherlock asked. He couldn't care less, but he was trying to be friendly, as John demanded he be when in the hospital.

"The shop she works in," Sibley explained, "I've been using John's phone to text her," 

"Why?" Sherlock asked, frowning.

"Because I don't have my own," she moved to shrugged but stopped when she, again, began to hurt. 

"Oh... Right..." Sherlock said. Amber giggled at him. 

"Anyways, Sib, I brought you a hospital survival kit for the week." she held up a backpack and began to pull things out, "Harry Potter series because I know how Jk Rowling cheers you up, Sierra Demudler's two poetry books, a few magazines for when you need more light reading, mad libs, crosswords, and sudoku books. I was going to bring you some movies but then I remembered you have nothing to watch them on." she said. Sibley grinned. 

"Aw, thanks Amber," she smiled. 

"Any time," the blonde replied. 

"You don't have a computer?" Sherlock cut in. 

"Uh, no," Sibley said. 

"What about your school work?" 

"John." she answered. 

"You've never asked me." he said. She smiled slightly. 

"John's a bit more approachable." she said. 

"Oh..." 

Amber looked between the two for a moment before her phone pinged. She looked at the message and rolled her eyes. 

"Well I gotta go, I have school work, my dad'll kill me if I get too far behind. See ya later," she smiled and waved at the two before leaving the two Holmes to sit in silence. 

~~~

"Big scary uncle guy?" Sibley questioned drowsily as Mycroft entered her hospital room, swinging his umbrella at his side. Sherlock looked between the two. 

"You know each other?" he asked before Mycroft could comment on her name for him. 

"Yeah he threatened me into his car so he could ask questions about my mother the same day you called child services. He said he was my uncle." she explained. Sherlock turned a glare on his brother who only shrugged.

"Sadly, he wasn't lying. This is my brother," he told her. She just stared up at the man, looking as elegant as ever in his expensive, pristine, suit. 

"I, uh, I like what you've done with your hair," Mycroft gave a forced smile, trying to be nice, Sherlock told him he could only visit if he promised not to be a jerk. She snorted. 

"Thanks.... God, are all the Holmes the same? Are my grandparents like this?" she asked, looking between the two. 

"Like what?" the brothers asked in sync. 

"Allergic to emotion. Uncle Mycroft, you looked like you were in so much pain just giving a compliment," she smirked, purposefully using the word 'uncle' to gauge a reaction. 

"Yes, with your charming personality I wonder what you did to provoke such a nasty reaction from those boys," he said sarcastically. She blinked, offended. Did he basically just blame her for the incident? Did he think she caused this?

"Mycroft!" Sherlock and John snapped at the man, glaring him down. He sighed and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"My apologies if I have offended you, Sibley. I came to see how you were doing." he said.

"It's fine, but you should probably look into lessons on tact. Anyways, I'm alright. They're still making me stay in this stupid hospital though, I hate hospitals." she complained.

"Yes, not many people are fond." he said. 

"You'll be discharged soon. The doctors want your ribs to heal more before you can go," Sherlock said.

"Why can't I just heal at home?" she whined. It occurred to both her and Sherlock in that moment that it was the first time she had referred to their flat as home. He smiled slightly. 

"Because you won't have the same medical equipment and doctors," Sherlock said. 

"John's a doctor," she reminded him.

"Sibley." he warned. She rolled her eyes again. Mycroft watched the exchange in amusement. Sherlock. A dad. It was a weird thought but there he was, watching his brother parent an injured teenager. 

"Well, I do hope you begin to get better, dear." he said. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes reminding him so much of his little brother. 

"Thanks, 'Uncle'." she smirked. He couldn't help but smile back before turned to leave, swinging his umbrella next to him. 

~~~

"Sherlock?" Sibley grabbed her father's attention later that day. He looked down at her. 

"I- I've been needing to talk to you," she said, looking at her hands. 

"Well spit it out," he said. 

"I... I can't go back to that school. I- I know the boys were expelled but I just don't th-think I can go back. After every-" 

"Sibley," he cut her off and she looked up at him, "I wasn't expecting you to go back. I thought you might enjoy online school better," he said. Her eyes lit up. 

"But how? I don't even have a computer," she said. He reached into a bag he had brought with him and pulled out a slim white box with the image of a laptop on the front out and handed it to her. Next, he gave her a smaller one with a mobile on the front. She looked from the gifts to her father, surprised. 

"Th-thank you." she said. He waved her off, rolling his eyes. 

"They're basic necessities in this generation. You needed them." he said. She just smiled at him, ignoring the pain as she sat up and leaned forward to wrap her arms around him. He stiffened before gently, albeit awkwardly, hugging her back, careful not the hurt her, and then forced her to lay back down. 

"You're going to hurt yourself." he said. She just continued to smile at him as she buried herself in the covers. He smiled at her as she closed her eyes. His daughter. His happy, content, daughter.


	9. Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sibley wasn't an idiot and even an idiot could see what she was seeing, however unbelievable. Sherlock Holmes was nervous. He was struggling to find words. She wasn't sure if she should he afraid or amused, so she took to just being curious with a tilted head and a hard stare at him under furrowed eyebrows.

If Sibley thought this was going to be easy, she was wrong. This was the hardest thing she had ever done. She squinted down, tool poised in her fingers. She began to slowly moved her hand towards the table. Steady, steady. She was in, now she lifted her hand and-

Buzz

"Dang it! This game is impossible!" she shouted. Normally she would throw her arms up in the air, but she was still extremely sore despite being discharged from the hospital the night before, plus one of them was in a sling to support her broken collarbone. 

"Nothing is impossible," Sherlock replied, easily taking the pliers from her and pulling out some fake body part in the operation man. She groaned. 

"Is there anything besides socializing you're not good at?" she asked. He scoffed.

"No. Your turn." he said. The door opened and closed to reveal John with groceries in his arms. He set them down on the counter before turning and looking at the two.

"Ah, at least your no longer playing Cluedo, the two of you arguing was becoming very frustrating." he said.

"It's just stupid. Cluedo isn't real life, there are more rules and it's about elimination, not actual sleuthing. Therefore he can't have deduced the board and made a decision!" she exclaimed. Sherlock just rolled his eyes at her. She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes.

"Feeling alright?" Sherlock asked, boxing up the game.

"Yeah, just hurting a bit." she admitted.

"When was the last time you took your pain meds?" John asked.

"Few hours ago." she replied. Sherlock stood and walked to the kitchen to retrieve the little pill bottle and got her required meds out.

"You'll be sore for a few weeks but it shouldn't be as bad in the next couple of days," John told her. She nodded, taking the white pills from her father and swallowing them dry. She went to stand but Sherlock forced her back down.

"You need to rest," he said. She sighed in frustration.

"I've had enough rest. I'm tired of resting. It's not like I got shot, it was just a fight, it's not like I almost died." she whined.

"You need to wait until you've completely healed and those boys did almost kill you. Had the teacher gotten there thirty seconds later, you could have been permanently injured, Sibley." Sherlock said.

"Are they in jail?" she asked.

"Antarctica, actually," Mycroft stood in the doorway and tossed something at her, she reached out and caught it. In her hands was a small stuffed bear with a red ribbon around his neck.

"Uncle Mycroft, did you buy me a stuffed bear? Is this a sign that you like me?" she asked. He rolled his eyes.

"You are family." he answered simply and Sibley knew that was as close as she'd get to him telling her he cared for her.

"So what did you mean Antarctica?" she asked.

"Well, there’s a military base down there. It was decided that since they liked violence so much, they could put it to use."

"Decided by whom?" she asked, innocently. He smirked at her and she smiled back. 

"That's classified." he replied.

"Well whoever it was, give them my gratitude." she said. He gave her a small nod. Sherlock's phone buzzed and he looked at the screen.

"Lestrade needs us, we have a case. Don't move, Sibley, if you need anything, yell for Mrs. Hudson," he said in a rush. Mycroft rolled his eyes at a brother but left himself.

Pretty soon the flat was empty again.

~~~

"How are you feeling?" Amber asked later as she sat in John's chair across from Sibley.

"Terrible. My body hates me and I still haven't had a shower as Sherlock doesn't want me standing for that long alone due to my concussion and there's no way I'm letting him help me," she grimaced. Amber giggled.

"Aw, I'm sorry, love. If it comes down to it I could always help you," she offered. Sibley was a bit surprised at the offer. Amber shrugged, sensing her thoughts.

"Don't make it weird, your hurt and need help to do something, I don't mind helping so you don't have to suffer from being dirty or have your father in which you've just met help you," she said with a shrug. Sibley smiled.

"I appreciate that... Maybe later," she suggested. Amber nodded and looked down at her hands.

"What?" Sibley asked.

"I just... I don't know what I would have done had they hurt you even worse," she stood and walked over to sit next to Sibley "I care a lot about you, Sib," she sighed. They were close now. 

"I care about you too," she said quietly.

"Promise me you'll be more careful. I know your dad is a detective and all and does dangerous stuff, so you can't exactly get away from it, but... At least try? I can't lose you," she said. Sibley nodded, biting her bottom lip.

"I will." she whispered. They stared at each other, centimeters apart for several moments before the door to the flat burst open and the girls flew apart. Both men froze.

"Oh, uh...." John cleared his throat and held up a bag "we brought lunch." he said. The girls, red faced, nodded, reaching out and taking the bags.

"So, uh, how's the case going?" Sibley asked as they all sat around the small table in the living room.

"It's going well, very well," John said. The awkward tension in the room was high. Sherlock rolled his eyes and began to talk about the case, blabbering about the things he had deduced at the crime scene and complaining about Anderson and Donovan. Soon the tension in the room had melted and they were all laughing at Sherlock and his animosity for the daft forensics worker and his lover.

~~~

"Checkmate! Take that, Holmes!" Sibley squealed later the next day. Sherlock and John had to be out for a while and Mrs. Hudson wasn't around so Sherlock insisted Mycroft come over in case Sibley needed anything. He still didn't want her moving around, the night before he had carried her to her room. She wasn't a China doll, and her legs were perfectly fine, but Sherlock didn't care. Her concussion was still very bad, she was still I'm a sling for her collar bone and she would be for a while, and she still had many stitches in.

"You're just like your father, you have to rub everything in," he said. She giggled.

"You're just upset you got owned by a teenager," she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Don't be childish, dear," he said, putting the game away. She smirked at him, leaning back on the couch.

"So, is there a lady in the ice man's life or does your world revolve around spying on your little brother?" Sibley asked. Mycroft scoffed at her.

"My life does not revolve around Sherlock. In any case, no there is no lady," he said.

"Gentleman?" she asked. He gave her a look.

"No." he said. She laughed at him.

"You are so easy to mess with Uncle Myc," she said. He rolled his eyes at her and the ridiculous nickname she had given him.

"Don't call me that." he said.

"Fine then... Mikey... Uncle Mikey... Uncle Croft... Ooh! Uncroft!" she grinned. He shook his head on her.

"Do you insist on being so irritating?" he asked. 

"As long as you keep reacting, yeah," she leaned forward and took the last biscuit off the plate in front of her.

"I think your medicine is making you a bit loopy," he said. She shrugged.

"Maybe," she shoved the last of the biscuit in her mouth and moved to lay down on the sofa.

"Wake me up when September ends," she muttered, closing her eyes. Mycroft furrowed his eyebrows.

"It's January," he said.

"Oh nevermind... It's a Greenday reference- just- wake me up in an hour," she said. He nodded and watched as she drifted off into sleep. He allowed himself to smile slightly, shaking his head in amusement as his niece. Dang, he was already growing a soft spot for her.

~~~

"Sibley, let's, uh, let's talk," Sherlock said that night, sitting across from her. 

Sibley wasn't an idiot and even an idiot could see what she was seeing, however unbelievable. Sherlock Holmes was nervous. He was struggling to find words. She wasn't sure if she should he afraid or amused, so she took to just being curious with a tilted head and a hard stare at him under furrowed eyebrows.

"So, uh, you've been officially adopted now..." he began. She nodded slowly, making no move to reply. "You're still, uh, you're still a Lawrence though and I was wondering... Mycroft could help if you wanted.... To be a Holmes," he said. She blinked. She smiled.

"That's what you're so nervous about?! Of course I want too!" she exclaimed. He smiled, relieved.

"Okay, great.... I'll go pick up some food." he then stood and zoomed out of the room. She giggled. How very out of character he had been. Honestly, the man was obviously capable of emotion, yet it terrified him. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Sibley Kyna Holmes." she mused. Sounded perfect.


	10. Die Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bleeding meant she wasn't invincible and growing up in the house she had, she needed to be invincible. It dripped into her mouth and down her neck, warm and sticky.

It had been around one month since the fight happened and Sibley had been healing pretty well. Her father had finally let her start moving around on her own, which was good because she had been feeling herself go crazy. She walked slowly into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Lately most of her pain was just being sore from the healing process. She was still in a sling sadly, her collar bone probably was the worst of it.

"Morning, Sibley, how you feeling?" John asked, joining her in what she felt was more a makeshift lab than a kitchen.

"Okay," she answered lazily, "I need to get out of this stupid flat though. I'm going stir crazy." she sighed.

"Well, we do need some groceries, maybe you can convince your dad to let you go to the shop." he said.

"Maybe," she replied, finishing up the tea and pouring herself some.

"So how's Sara?" she asked, blowing at the steam over her mug.

"Janette." he corrected.

"Oh... Yeah... How is she?" she asked.

"Fine. She's fine." he replied.

Sherlock came out in flannel pajama bottoms and a bare chest. His hair was a mess atop his head, and he still looked half asleep. Sibley took this as proof that he actually slept. Any time she had ever come downstairs to get water or go to the loo at night, he was awake.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," she teased, sipping on her tea. He rolled his eyes at her and made himself some tea.

"Ya know, you would wake up easier in the morning if you'd let your body have more sleep." Sibley pointed out.

"I don't need that much sleep. Sleep is a waste of time." he spat. She chuckled, continuing to sip on her tea. It was unusually quiet due to Sherlock's drowsiness and Sibley didn't like it. John and Sherlock were on cases so often that it was always quiet when she was home. When they were there, she loved the noise and craziness of the two men.

"So, we need groceries," Sibley commented.

"Okay." Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow, wondering what she wanted.

"Maybe I could go out and get them?" she questioned.

"You're still hurt," he said.

"But I'm perfectly capable," she insisted.

"Sherlock, she'll be fine. She needs to get out. I'm a Doctor, I know." he said.

"Fine. Just be careful." he said, pulling out his wallet and handing her his card. She nodded with a grin. As she stood up to go get dressed she planted a kiss on her father's cheek and rushed to her bedroom.

~~~

Sibley finished paying and grabbed the bags of groceries. A shop worker helped her, seeing as she only had one free arms and couldn't carry the rest, and helped her to her cab. She thanked him as she climbed in.

"You're 'olmes kid, right?" the cabbie asked. She squinted her eyebrows. Did the public find out? She sighed, assuming she was in all the papers now.

"Maybe, why?" she asked.

"Ya know, 'olmes witnessed my father die," the man said. Her heart began to speed up as warning lights flashed in her mind.

"O-oh, did he?" she asked, inching closer to the door of the cab.

"Yeah. Hadn't seen my father in some time, he left us money," the cabbie said.

"That's g-good." she said.

"Your father is the reason mine is dead. Think I should take something important from him too." the man growled. She moved to open the door but it was locked.

"Let me out." she said.

"Oh, don't be like that, we have plans ahead." he insisted. She pulled out her phone and began to type message to Sherlock.

Cabbie  
Son  
Left by St. Barts hospital  
Hurry.

She typed it quickly before he looked in the rear view and saw her.

"Oh no dear." he reached back and took it from her, throwing it out the window. She began to cry.

"I didn't d-do anything, p-please just let me g-o," she begged.

"No can do, sweetheart, we've got things to do."

~~~

Sibley was thrust into a chair, hands tied behind her back, ankles tied together. She looked around instantly. She was in a flat, it was nice, newer. Whoever owned the flat obviously loved the color blue, blue couch, blue walls, blue curtains. It was an open plan so the kitchen was visible from where she sat. There were a few men talking in hushed tones with each other, one of which being the cabbie.

She tested her bindings. Plastic zip ties. She couldn't break out of those. This flat obviously belonged to a woman, it wasn't a man's design. There were holes where nails had been but the pictures were gone. There was not a single photo anywhere. She glanced at the fridge to see a list with things to do when feeding the pets. The residents were on vacation. One of the men must have been the pet sitter and thought this was a good place to hold Sibley captive. Why take down the pictures though? Maybe... She looked around some more… Oh... 

"This whole place is fake." she said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her.

"’Scuse me?" the cabbie asked. She rolled her eyes.

"The paint is fresh, I can smell it, the couch is brand new, not a stain in sight, as are almost everything else here. The holes in the walls show that you originally planned to hang up photos to trick me, but decided they would probably just tip me off as it's easy to tell when something is a real family or just photos taken to sit in picture frames at the shop. You wanted me to believe the family is on vacation but you made the mistake of not giving any evidence at all of there being any animals, this is a tiny flat with no halls, the food bowls would probably be in the kitchen. Plus the names on the paper are Fluffy and Mr. Whiskers and no adult would name their pets that! There is also no evidence of children living here so it wouldn’t have been them. So where are we then?" she asked. The men slowly began to laugh.

"Just like her father," one of them said.

"A know it all," said another.

"Oh shut up. What are you planning on doing? Killing me?" she asked.

"Not just yet. We have to make him squirm a little." the cabbie said, kneeling in front of her.

"Why? What's the point? So your dad died. You can't do anything to bring him back. Get over it." she snapped. He slapped her.

"Listen here, you little bitch, you're not in control here. I suggest you watch your mouth." he growled. She glared at him but he didn't seem to care as he stood up and walked back over to his friends.

"Get the equipment."

~~~

The taste of blood had always been scary for Sibley. Bleeding meant she wasn't invincible and growing up in the house she had, she needed to be invincible. It dripped into her mouth and down her neck, warm and sticky. Her nose was probably broken now, but that wasn't her main concern. She was worried about her stomach, if he hit hard enough to affect future conception. She worried about her swollen left eye and how long until she would be able to see clearly out of it again.

"How you feeling, sweetheart?" the cabbie asked. She spat a glob of dark red blood out.

"Great," she replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, I'm afraid you're gonna be sore for a little while longer, dear." he said. She began to cry again, shaking in fear and pain.

"P-please just leave me alone," she begged. The cabbie took a picture of her and began to type into his phone. She assumed he had sent it to Sherlock.

"He's gonna find me." she warned. He laughed at her.

"Oh, poor Sibley. Do you think he's going to put that much effort into coming for you? Do you really think he cares?" the cabbie asked.

"If he didn't then this entire thing would be pointless," she replied.

"Not pointless. I take you, send pictures that make Sherlock and his little boyfriend argue about you. Then I kill you, Watson gets angry, he moves out. Sherlock is then left all alone. No daughter, no John, and a disappointed landlady." he mused.

"You're wrong, he's looking for me," she insisted through her tears. He barked out an angry laugh. 

"He's not. He barely even likes you. He thinks you're unintelligent and a waste of time," the man said. 

"N-no he doesn't," she insisted. 

"Oh, don't be so ignorant. We both know it's true. He's all but said it, hasn't he?" the man asked. 

"How would y-you know?" she asked. 

"CCTVs can be hacked, your uncle has quite a few of them." he said. She looked down at her lap and cried harder. She was becoming terrified.

"Don't cry, lovely, the truth hurts sometimes." he kneeled in front of her and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. He then stood and punched her in the face, "But so does this," he punched her again. 

"See," he began as he pulled up his sleeves, "my father was a cabbie, I'm not, that was all fake. He and Sherlock played a little game and before you know it, boom. He was shot. Your father just watched." he growled. 

"I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you want? I'm sorry," she sobbed. 

"Oh, love, I know you are, but it's not your fault, it's your daddy's, and I'm gonna make him pay," he punched her again, causing her to black out. 

~~~

One week and four days. It had been one week and four days and Sibley was at the point of wanting to die. She didn't have her pain meds, so her old injuries were killing her as were her new ones. She felt so weak and defeated. She wished she was strong enough to fight everyone off, but she wasn't. 

She thought back to when she was a little girl, when everything was fine and normal and she was loved. Her mother used to randomly pick her up and carry her to the couch so they could cuddle. She always felt so safe, wrapped up in her mother's arms. Now she felt lost and alone. 

Sherlock was a genius. An amazing detective who could solve murders in seconds. Mycroft was practically the British government, he could get anything he wanted. Clearly they just weren't looking. She wondered how long it would take before they finally killed her. Ended her misery. 

"Morning sunshine!" the cabbie burst into the fake flat where she was still tied to the same chair, in the same clothes, sticky with the same blood. She had been given one cup of water every morning, but that was it. 

"Water!" he exclaimed, holding the cup up to her lips and tilting it back. She gulped it quickly and excitedly. She was done within seconds. 

"Aww, that was quick." he said, putting it on the table before slapping her. She whimpered. 

"I'm hungry," she whispered. 

"You could go for weeks without food," he said. Weeks. Was that how long he planned to keep her there? 

"P-please," she begged. He grinned maniacally and bent down to her levels, pushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. 

"Oh, poor Sibley. The Holmes that resorts to begging." he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. His grip was tight. 

"You're not worth the Holmes name." he let her go and stood, "Maybe I'm doing them a favor. Maybe that's the real reason they're not looking, they're happy you're gone." he snarled.

"No," her voice was hoarse and weak from lack of water and all the times they had taken to strangling her for fun. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd make it. She felt weak and stupid. If she had the strength and discipline her family did, she'd be fine, but she didn't. Maybe they were better off without her. 

"I see it in your eyes, you know I'm right," he said. She just hung her head, letting the tears spill. She was going to die here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to the real stuff now! Still, this is only a minor part compared to what's to come. Super excited! 
> 
> So, I have a lot of chapters pre-written and am coming to the end. That being said, I'm soon going to start planning the sequel and while I already have an idea of where I want that to go, it's open enough that I'll take suggestions! What do you guys want to see in the future? Any plot lines, characters, certain moments? Let me know! I'm also considering doing a one-shot or two of things that won't fit into the main book like crossovers and fluffy stuff, so I'll take requests for that too!
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	11. Considerably Younger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was sure she would be sleeping at this time. Most normal people were, especially ones that had early hours, but something told him she was awake. He knocked on the door and didn't have to wait long before it swung open. She stood there, light brown hair frizzed, dark bags resting underneath her bloodshot eyes, she had been crying.

The day she was kidnapped:

Sherlock didn't like the idea of Sibley going to the store alone while she was still healing, but she insisted she needed to get out and be alone. John also promised she'd be fine and he trusted John's word. He didn't know she'd be kidnapped. 

He was playing the violin when his phone buzzed and he was too into the music to notice. It wasn't until an hour later when John came back from visiting his girlfriend that he finally stopped. John looked around a moment before asking where Sibley was, sure that his friend wouldn't allow her to still be out considering just convincing him to let her go to the store was hard. Sherlock instantly became alert. 

"She hasn't come home yet," he said, calm. He was sure she just lost track of time as he often did. He grabbed his phone to call her but realized that she had sent him a text. 

Cabbie  
Son  
Left by St. Barts hospital  
Hurry.

"She was taken." he said. John looked at him in fear and concern. 

"What?! By who?!" he exclaimed. 

"Looks like her cabbie. She sent this when they were making a left by Barts Hospital." he said. 

"Her cabbie kidnapped her? Sounds like a study in pink." John said. Sherlock looked at him.

"That must be what she meant by son! It's his kid! We need to talk to Lestrade," Sherlock was out the door in seconds, John struggling to keep up. 

~~~

Sherlock hadn't completely realized the impact Sibley had on people until she got kidnapped. While sadly, there were other crimes to deal with and not everyone could pitch in, a good 80 percent of Scotland Yard insisted on helping find his daughter. His daughter who brought people coffee and helped them with paperwork and would always comfort them when she saw they had just had a rough case. Police that Sherlock had never even seen were pitching in. No one would be satisfied until she was found. 

"Sherlock," Lestrade said around 2AM that night (or morning, depending on how you look at it), "Go home, eat some food, get some rest." he insisted. 

"I don't need rest. I don't sleep." Sherlock snapped.

"Maybe not normally but right now your daughter needs you at your best. If I have to, I'll just kick you out." he said. Sherlock heaved a frustrated sigh and stormed away. If they wouldn't let him at the yard, he'd have to work at the flat. 

~~~

Four days. Sibley had been missing for four days. Sherlock hadn't slept in four days. John had barely slept in four days. It was late, same thing that happened last time, Lestrade kicked Sherlock out. He found himself walking the streets of London, not knowing his destination, at least until he arrived there. 

He was sure she would be sleeping at this time. Most normal people were, especially ones that had early hours, but something told him she was awake. He knocked on the door and didn't have to wait long before it swung open. She stood there, light brown hair frizzed, dark bags resting underneath her bloodshot eyes, she had been crying. 

"Sherlock," she said, the normally joyful pathologist did not smile at him. 

"Molly, hello. Can I, uh, can I come in?" he asked. She frowned, confused by his unusual behavior, but nonetheless made space for him to walk in. 

"What are you doing here, Sherlock? I'm not doing any favors for you, not right now." she said. 

"You've been crying, why?" he asked. 

"Sibley." she answered. He raised an eyebrow. 

"If you had ever bothered to get to know anyone, you'd know that I've known her since she was a baby. I'm worried." she snapped. She didn't want to deal with him. Not while Sibley was still gone, not while Molly's mind was full of horrible possibilities. 

"Oh... Wh- ho- okay, tell me about her." he said. Molly looked at him surprised. He was showing interest in another human. Honestly, he should have known by then, but whatever. She turned and walked over to a table covered in picture frames, she handed one to him. 

Sherlock stared down at photo in his hands. It showcased a considerably younger Molly Hooper, grinning and hugging what seemed to be a six year old. She was missing her two front teeth but her grin was still adorable. Bright, vivid blue eyes, stared at the camera, her hair was long, thick, dark, and curly. No doubt it was Sibley. 

"She's a sweetie, still is. Can't stand the thought of someone being sad or upset. Always had to comfort people. Loves music and art, wants to be a detective. She's so much like you and yet so different from you." she sighed. 

"How do you know her?" he asked. 

"Her mum and I were friends at one point." she replied. "She used to come running to me every time her mother got drunk or high or both."

"You're close." it wasn't a question, it was a statement. Molly nodded. 

"Yes. Sibley is very important to me. If anything happens to her, Sherlock….” she trailed off, her imagination taking her to the worst of places.

"I will find her." he stated with so much confidence she almost believed him, almost.

"She's a strong girl, Sherlock, but I'm worried." she sighed. He nodded and put the frame back in its original spot.

"I'm going to find her, Molly. I am." with that he turned around, sweeping his belstaff behind him, and rushing out the door.

~~~

It was weeks after the visit with Molly when Sherlock decided that the horrid cabbie made a mistake by sending Sherlock all of those pictures. One, it made him angrier and more determined by each one. Two, it gave away clues. Finally, finally, he found her. Police cars pulled up to the old building. It was once where minor TV shows were filmed for minor channel. They burst in and looked around. Sibley was passed out and tied to a chair on one of the sets. The cabbie and three other men were in the fake kitchen. He rushed over to them first and grabbed the man, shoving him against the wall. He laughed.

"’Ello Mr. ‘Olmes, guess you found me." he said.

"She was never apart of any of this." Sherlock growled. The cabbie just chuckled.

"You killed my father, Sherlock ‘Olmes. I ‘ad to get even." he smirked. Sherlock punched him and let go, he unconsciously slid to the ground. 

John finished untying Sibley. She slowly opened her eyes as he tried to help her up. She groaned loudly and everyone could hear her pain. Her face was covered in bruises and her nose and mouth were caked in blood. She was wearing the same clothes she had worn the day she left the flat.

Sherlock only watched as she was strapped onto a gurney and rolled out to an ambulance. This was his fault for getting attached. For becoming sentimental. If he hadn't gotten attached, he wouldn't have lost his head, wouldn't have taken so long to find her. She wouldn't be so hurt.

He slowly followed and climbed into the ambulance after her, sitting next to the bed. She had slipped back into unconsciousness again. All he did was watch as the paramedics and nurses checked her over and sit in his thoughts.

~~~

Sibley's eyes fluttered open and she realized she was in a hospital bed. She didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed that she was back there again, but she chose to be happy she was not only in a warm bed, but she was clean and in clean clothes.

Amber was the only person in the room. She stood abruptly and ran over. She had clearly been crying a lot.

"Sibley, oh my God, are you okay? I was so worried," she cried.

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm okay." she whispered. Amber pushed a blonde strand of hair behind her ear and Sibley noticed a purple bruise on her chin.

"Amber, what happened?" she asked with a frown. Her eyes widened for a second before she shook her head.

"Nothing, I came home late last night and Dad was in one of his moods. He gave me a hundred dollars this morning to apologize." she said. Sibley rolled her eyes, Amber always insisted it was okay and she was fine, but she disagreed. She couldn't argue with her this time though, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to ignore her aching body. 

"I'll get your dad," with that, Amber was gone. 

The door opened pretty quickly after that and Sherlock walked in. She attempted to smile at him, but she was sure it came out more a grimace. She frowned at his expression. It was cold, lifeless as he stared down at her. 

"Hey," she said. 

"I told you you shouldn't have gone to the shop." he said. 

"We couldn't have known that was going to happen." she said with a frown. Really? He hadn't seen her in over a month and she was hurt and this was what he was saying? 

"Yes, well now, over a month has been wasted looking for you. If you had been intelligent you could have gotten yourself out." he snapped. She felt her eyes well up with tears as she remembered the cabbies words. He had said Sherlock didn't care. 

"I-I'm sorry. I... I just wasn't strong enough to-to fight." she said. He shook his head. 

"Of course you weren't. Just like with those boys." he said. She stared at him, terror and sorrow on her face. 

"Stop crying, it's pointless," he growled, she tried to stop, but was unable too. He scoffed. 

"I don't have time for this." and with that, he turned and walked out, leaving a devastated Sibley behind. 

~~~

John and Sherlock were at 221B when Amber Brooke stormed in, full of rage. John raised an eyebrow at her, wondering if everyone had just gone crazy. Between Sherlock not spending every waking second at the hospital considering Sibley had only been found mere hours before and Sibley barely talking when he had visited, people were being weird. Now kind, respectful, Amber, had just walked into their house without knocking, and slapped Sherlock right across the face. 

"What the hell is your problem?! Sibley has enough to worry about and enough insecurity without you coming round and calling her weak and stupid!" she exclaimed. 

"Wait, what?" John asked, looking to Sherlock in hopes he hadn't actually said that. Sherlock sighed. 

"I was only stating truth, she needs to quit being so sensitive." he said. Now it was John who punched him. Sherlock stumbled back and looked up at his friend in confusion. John was fuming. 

"You said what to her? Sherlock Holmes, what is wrong with you?" he asked in anger. 

"Nothing! Everything I told her was the truth and she needed to hear it, she's pathetic," he said. Before Amber could attack him, John did. Her eyes widened as John took him to the ground and shook her head. Sherlock Holmes. Biggest jerk alive. She did nothing to stop the fight and instead turned and walked out of the flat.


	12. Insufferable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She loved too much, felt too much, let feelings consume and eat away at her. That was the main difference, really. While Sherlock and Mycroft didn't feel at all, her feelings controlled her.

Sibley had been spending too much time crying lately. She had been back home for two weeks and Sherlock was being insufferable. He and John were barely getting along because of Sherlock's cruelty and whenever he spoke to her, it was in insults. He was being just straight up mean and her already fragile ego couldn't take it. She was miserable. 

She was alone, laptop on her lap as she was working on school work when Amber showed up. She frowned upon seeing Sibley, bloodshot, sad, eyes, anyone could see that the girl was suffering. Amber walked over, closed the computer, and moved it to the side. She put her arm gently around her friends shoulders and instantly, Sibley was crying into her chest. 

"He's being so mean. I don't know what I did!" she sobbed. Amber sighed as she rubbed her friends back in comfort. 

"I know, hun, I know," she said. 

“Amber, I just don't understand,” she sniffed, pulling back. Amber ran her fingers through Sibley's soft hair. 

“People like Sherlock Holmes don't know how to have emotion. How to love and care. You didn't do anything wrong, love.” she said softly.

“I just feel so worthless.” she said. Her friend frowned and pulled away so that Sibley was looking into her eyes.

“You’re not, Sib,” she whispered. 

“But I feel like it,” she sighed. Amber reached forward to push a strand of hair back behind Sibley’s ear.

“Listen to me. You are not worthless. You are smart and you are funny and you are beautiful and you are kind. I love you, John loves you, by the sounds of it, half of Scotland Yard loves you. You're not worthless, do you understand me?” she asked, voice gentle but stern. Sibley gave a small nod but Amber could tell she didn't get very far with her. She shook her head and stood up. 

“Come on, you need to do something fun for a change,” she insisted, holding her hand out. Sibley hesitated, but took it. 

~~~

As Sibley was still a bit weak and in loads of pain, she was sitting in wheelchair as she and Amber moved through the mall. After hitting several shops and Amber insisting she buy Sibley some things as she had the money, they sat at a food court. 

“Okay, okay, so sex, marry, kill, 9th doctor, 10th doctor, 11th doctor, go.” Amber said. Sibley's eyes widened. 

“No! You can't do that! It's not fair! Ugh… man… I guess… sex with 9… Um… ergh… marry ten and… crap, uh, hug 11!” she exclaimed. 

“It was kill, not hug,” Amber said. 

“Well, I'm not killing any of the doctors no matter what you say. I refuse!” Sibley explained, giggling. Amber smiled, happy to see her friend happy. 

“Okay so I have a plan,” she announced. Sibley raised an eyebrow. 

“College at Cambridge, flatmates, two kittens, and a golden Labrador. We both work at a coffee shop, you perform, I serve coffee. Then we graduate, you go work as a detective and wherever you do that, I'll set up my store that will grow into a franchise that spreads across the world and you will be the next world's most famous detective!” she explained, her eyes bright. Sibley laughed. 

“Sounds like a plan. One problem though, I'm ever making it into Cambridge. I used to think I could but that was before I went back to school and realized I'm not nearly as smart as I thought I was. Not like Sherlock, I got his observation skills, but that's as far as my intellect goes.” she sighed. Amber flicked a chip at her, which she caught in her mouth.

“Shut up. You're just behind some. All you gotta do is get caught up and then we can go live our dreams and get away from our high maintenance fathers.” Amber insisted. Sibley smiled. 

“Well, I like your optimism. We’ll see. No matter what, we will get a life away from our families and we're not looking back.” Sibley agreed. Amber grinned and held up her soda. 

“Here here.” Sibley chuckled and held up her own before they both broke down into a fit of laughter.

~~~

Sibley's legs were pulled against her chest as she watched the telly. She wasn't paying much attention to what was actually happening. Her thoughts were straying. She wasn't a Holmes. No, the Holmes were smart, strong, quick. She was none of those things, struggling just to do online school, getting the crap kicked out of her, getting kidnapped. She loved too much, felt too much, let feelings consume and eat away at her. That was the main difference, really. While Sherlock and Mycroft didn't feel at all, her feelings controlled her. Maybe that's why Sherlock hated her so much. She wasn't anything like him and he was so darn prideful. So arrogant. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Sherlock walked in, slamming the door behind him. She watched him slowly as he rushed over to his desk and moved some papers around. 

“Wasn't John with you?” she asked. 

“Well obviously not as he's not here!” he snapped. She flinched, cowering back into the sofa. 

“S-so where is he?” she asked. 

“I don't know! Stop asking stupid questions!” he snapped before sitting in the chair and pushing the laptop open. 

“How was the case?” she asked quietly, voice almost a whisper. 

“Fine.” he grit his teeth. 

“Did you figure it out?” she asked.

“Obviously not! What does it look like I'm doing? Shut up!” he exclaimed, clearly annoyed as he continued on the computer. She swallowed and hugged her legs tighter. She looked at the clock to see that it was 7:00PM, she hadn't had lunch due to lack of food and she was starving. 

“Is John getting groceries? I haven't eaten all day,” she said. 

“No. He's with his girlfriend or something.” he grumbled. 

“I could go pick up the groceries I need some money, though,” she offered. 

“Sibley, shut up! You're fine.” he growled, annoyed. 

“I haven't eaten all day. Part of having a child means feeding them!” she exclaimed, suddenly gaining a burst of confidence due to her anger. He stood abruptly. 

“Sibley! Get out!” he shouted, pointing to the door. She frowned, tears filling her eyes, and she ran out. 

~~~

Sibley sat sipping tea on Molly Hooper’s couch. She was crying but you couldn't hear it. Silent tears trailed down her cheeks. Molly slowly rubbed circles on the young girls back, trying not to let her anger at Sherlock show. Right now Sibley needed her. Sibley sighed and set her tea down before moving closer to Molly and laying her head on the pathologists shoulder. 

“He shouts and insults. He's horrid, Molly,” 

“Why don't you spend the night here? You could use a getaway. We can watch movies and eat junk food.” Molly suggested. 

“Can we invite Amber?” she asked. 

“Of course! Here, you call her, I'll go to the shop and get some food. I'll see you later, love,” Molly stood and walked out of her flat. She told the cabbie a destination and practically sat on the edge of her seat, seething. 

“Sherlock Holmes!” she shouted, running up the stairs of 221B.

“Molly?” he asked when she walked in. She walked straight over to him and slapped him. 

“How dare you. Sibley is probably the best thing that ever could have happened to you. She's sweet and caring and amazing! She is so much better than you will ever be and you're breaking her! She's called me sobbing more times than I can count and she just showed up on my doorstep looking miserable because of you. How dare you hurt her like that? She's your daughter!” Molly screeched. She saw a flicker of something pass on Sherlock's face but it was gone before she could figure out what it was. 

“You're right. She is my daughter, so don't tell me how to raise her.” he said. 

“I'm telling you to be nice to her, Sherlock! Is that so horrible?” she asked. 

“No, you're asking me to flatter her. I don't do flattery, I tell the truth.” he said. Molly blinked and shook her head, tears beginning to fill her own eyes. 

“Really? The truth? That's what you've been telling her?” she asked. He squinted, confused. 

“Yes…”

“So you believe that, then? That she's pathetic and weak and stupid? You think that's the truth? You believe that about your daughter?” she asked. He just stared at her and she shook her head. 

“Sherlock Holmes, you're a sick man and you don't deserve to be a father.” with that she turned on her heel and headed towards the shops like she had told Sibley she would. 

~~~

The next morning Sibley walked into 221B. Sherlock was standing next to the window, hands clasped behind his back. She frowned and shook her head, going in the direction of the room before his voice stopped her. 

“So you went to Molly?” he asked. 

“Oh, uh, y-yeah.” she said. He turned and looked her up and down.

“You're so sensitive that you went to Molly Hooper's house, crying? Pathetic,” he spat. 

“I'm not pathetic, Sherlock.” she said. 

“All you ever do is cry lately, that or fail at school. You can't even do online classes? You're stupid and pa-” 

“Shut up!” she screeched, finally. Just then John came out of his room, his eyebrows raised as he watched in curiosity. 

“Sherlock Holmes you big, horrid, knobhead! You maggot, you manky arse hole! Do you have anything better to do that be an insulting prick?! Or do you just hate yourself so much you have to bring your teenage daughter down? God, you are awful, terrible, horrid. All you have done since I got back from being kidnapped was insult and shout. You're mean, arrogant, prideful! I cared about you! I thought you cared about me! You're worse than my mother, Sherlock Holmes! I hate you. I hate every single piece of you!” she didn't waste any time, she turned and ran out of the flat, ignoring John's shouts of protests. The door slammed behind her and she took out her phone. 

“Amber, I need to get out. I need to get away, please come get me.”

~~~

“I'm proud of you for finally standing up for yourself,” Amber said as she drove into a more secluded area right outside of London. 

“I was just tired of it. Tired of him.” she replied. 

“I get what you mean, hun.” she said as they pulled up to a huge mansion away from view of outsiders. Sibley gaped. 

“How come I've never been here?” she asked as they stepped out of the car. 

“My dad's… well he's not someone I typically introduce my friends too, but oh well.” she admitted as they walked into the house. Amber led them up a spiral staircase and into a large, teal, room. It was beautiful, elegant, and so totally Amber's style. 

“Amber, it's beautiful,” Sibley sighed in awe as she ran her hands over the soft comforter. 

“Thanks, love. If you want you can take one of the guest rooms and stay here for a while. My dad won't mind. Promise.” she said, sitting on the bed, Sibley sat next to her and looked up at her. 

“Amber, thank you so much for everything. I don't know where I would be without you,” she said softly. Amber just grabbed the sides of Sibley's face with her hands and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Sibley responded within an instant, moving along with her. They broke apart for air. 

“I love you.” Sibley whispered. 

“I love you too.” Amber replied. 

“Amber! I see you've brought a Holmes here,” they heard a man say from the doorway. They both looked over, Sibley bright red in embarrassment and Amber totally fine. Sibley's embarrassment was quickly replaced with fear when she saw the man in front of her. She recognized him from the pictures her dad kept. This man was James Moriarty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Would love to hear some feedback!


	13. Oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shook the thought away, Baker Street hadn't been comfortable in months. Not since she was kidnapped and Sherlock changed. She was always on edge there, especially when he was home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter but lots of plot

Sibley’s reactions were never the most normal. She didn't have flight or fight responses to anything. When she was scared, her brain scattered, her thoughts buzzed around her head, blurring together. It made it hard to make decisions in a dangerous situation, especially with her already slow processing speed. This was probably one of the biggest reasons Sherlock found her so stupid. She was incredibly slow and bad at making choices. So when Moriarty gestured for the two girls to follow, she did, not knowing what else to do. 

Amber knew Sibley better than anything else, and she could sense her friends (is that what they were? She didn't even know anymore) discomfort, and gripped her hand. Sibley gave her a soft smile in gratitude. She didn't know if Amber knew this was going to happen or the relation between their fathers or the fact that Moriarty was a cold hearted killer with a line of criminals that worked for him and a lost of offenses against the law, but in that moment, she just didn't care. She knew she probably should. She could hear Sherlock in her ear calling her an emotional idiot, but she couldn't bring herself to look at Amber as the enemy. Not her Amber. Not her best friend Amber. Not the girl who was always there for her no matter what. 

Moriarty led them into a surprisingly bright office, the mahogany desk and chair lit up by the sun shining through the large windows. A dark red rug sat in the middle of the room and two leather seats sat across from the desk. He gestured for them to take a seat and they did. He didn't sit on the chair behind the desk, rather, he sat on the front edge, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles. 

“Don't look so frightened, Sibley, I have no intention of hurting you. Wouldn't want to upset my daughter.” he said. Amber rolled her eyes to the ceiling. 

“Dad, stop. What do you want?” she asked, irritated. He gave a dramatic, almost theatrical, sigh. 

“Amber, dear, don't be your mother. It's annoying. Besides, I'm not talking to you.” he said. Sibley was half listening to him and half staring at her friend. It made since now. Amber's roots were black, her eyes were brown, her facial features were rounded. She did look like like her father. 

“Sibley, don't you know it's rude to stare?” Moriarty called her back out of her thoughts. She blushed and looked at her lap.

“Though, I don't blame you, she is beautiful, she does look like me after all,” he said. Amber was now also blushing as she stared at her father. 

“What do you want from me?” she was surprised at the firmness in her voice. Typically, she was stuttering at this point. She should have been shaking, shrinking back in the chair, praying for an end to come soon. She realized she was more angry than afraid. An image of Amber flashed in her mind, her chin was bruised. Then she remembered the papers she knew Jim Moriarty was associated with due to her father's files. The children he had kidnapped. People he had killed. Bombs strapped to strangers all to play a game with Sherlock. He was a psychopath who hurt people for fun including Amber. 

“Oh Sibley no need to be so angry. I haven't laid a finger on my daughter with ill intentions,” he said, as if reading her mind, “I have only insured my daughter is well practiced.” he finished. Sibley looked to Amber for more explanation. The teenager rolled her eyes again, clearly agitated with her father. 

“We train. Self defense. Sometimes I get a bit hurt.” she explained. 

“Oh…” that only eased her anger a little. There were still grieving families and children with PTSD because this man cared about no one and nothing. 

“Yes. I make sure she can protect herself. So if, for instance, a group of boys attack her, she could get away. If a certain cabbie tried to kidnap her, she could fight back,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Sibley swallowed. Her self hatred burned in her chest. 

“No need to be upset. It's not your fault Daddy dearest never gave you enough attention to teach you anything, but I, I can help you, Sibley,” he sang her name at the end.

“Dad, what are you even talking about?” Amber snapped. 

“I'm talking about Sherlock Holmes.” he said, drawing out Sibley's fathers name in a way that put her at unease. 

“Oh, right… You promised me you wouldn't. You promised you'd leave Sibley out of whatever sick thing you were planning,” Amber said, her voice getting louder with each word. Funny, while Sibley was becoming calm, Amber’s rage was growing.

“Shut up, Amber, you can be so dull sometimes. Sibley, I see the potential in you that your father can’t. You can become amazing. I want to invest.” he said. Sibley and Amber shared a glance before she looked back up at the smirking man.

“Invest?” she asked, confused. Moriarty groaned loudly again.

“Sibley!” he barked, “I can make you into everything you want to be. I can teach you to protect yourself. I can draw out the talents you’ve wasted and buried on account of your mother. You can live here and learn. Besides, I know you want to be closer to Amber,” he smirked again at the end, looking between the two girls.

“What are the conditions?” she asked, suspicious. Moriarty broke out into a full grin.

“Ah, good girl. Smart question. You have to stay here. You can’t contact your father, of course, eventually, you’ll join my team,” he said. She tilted her head, considering. He could help her. She could grow and finally be strong enough and smart enough that no one could ever help her. She could prove to her father she wasn’t everything he said he was. But, then she would have to help him. She would have to be a part of all the evil. 

“No.” she said.

“No?” he asked.

“No. In all honesty, you just want me so you can get to my father. His own flesh and blood going to his worst enemy? That’ll hurt. I can do that. I can stay here and learn and you can even pretend that I’m actually a part of all of this, but I won’t help you murder and steal and hurt.” she said. He threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh, you are fun! Of course, I agree to your terms. You don’t have to help with anything, just act. If I need you to be a pretty little actress in my games with your father, you will do that.” he said. She nodded.

“I think I can manage that.” she said.

“Alright, you two are dismissed for now,” he waved them off and they stood walking out.

They were silent as they walked down the long, wide, corridor. The home was beautiful and fascinating but Sibley knew she wouldn't find the same comfort in it that she had had in Baker Street. She shook the thought away, Baker Street hadn't been comfortable in months. Not since she was kidnapped and Sherlock changed. She was always on edge there, especially when he was home. No. She needed this. Needed to learn to be strong, to be confident in herself.

They arrived in Amber's room and Sibley slowly lowered herself onto the bed. It was quiet for a moment before Amber let out a sigh. 

“I'm sorry. I should have told you, what with my dad and your dad being, like, arch enemies or something stupid and dramatic like that. I just… I didn't want to lose you because of our stupid parents. We've both suffered enough due to them,” she rambled before plopping down next to her and laying her head on Sibley's shoulder, “We need each other.” she muttered. Sibley rested her head on her friends. 

“I'm not mad.” she said, voice soft. 

“Good.” Amber swallowed, shaking at the idea of Sibley deciding she hated her or something. 

“Am,” Sibley said, nudging her. Amber sat up and looked at her, expectant, “It's okay.” she rested her hand on Amber's cheek. After a few seconds they both leaned in continuing what Moriarty had interrupted. The kiss deepened and Sibley was so lost in the action she barely processed the fact that she was snogging her best friend. 

When they finally moved apart, her cheeks were flushed and she was smiling. Amber’s hair was frizzy and disarray from Sibley's hands having been buried in it. 

“Oh…” Sibley said, looking down. 

“Oh.” Amber agreed. They sat like that. Silent and processing.


	14. Daddy Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flat was silent. Empty. It only made his thoughts louder as they rattled around in his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting some Sherlock on in this chapter.  
> (please read end note)

Sherlock was worried. Three days. It had been three days since Sibley stormed out of the house and she wasn't answering her phone. He couldn't really blame her, he had been terrible. He just didn’t know how to deal with all of his new found emotions and seeing as this was the reason Sibley was in the state that she was in, he was trying to get rid of them. In the process he had just pushed everyone away. John was royally pissed at him, it seemed, and was staying at another girlfriends house. Mrs. Hudson would just shake her head and walk in the other direction when she saw him. Molly refused to speak to him or allow him in the morgue. Lestrade was the only one that talked to him and even then it was minimal, only when he needed assistance on a case. He supposed he deserved it. Sibley looked so hurt when she had left. He was so incredibly stupid. Of course shouting at her and insulting her wouldn’t solve any of his problems, they just made everything worse. 

Sherlock stood from the sofa, unable to sit still any longer, and pulled on his belstaff, before rushing out the door. He didn’t get very far before a big black car pulled up beside him. He rolled his eyes and huffed, annoyed, as the window rolled down. 

“Get in, brother mine, we have things to discuss,” he said.

“What is it, Mycroft?” he asked, in too bad of a mood to deal with his brother.

“It’s about your daughter, I’m afraid she’s gone to an unlikely source for comfort,” he said. Sherlock felt his heart stop for a moment before climbing in. 

“Who is it, Mycroft, who has she gone too?” 

“Moriarty.”

~~~

Sherlock and John both stood in Mycroft’s office, staring at the screen. Moriarty was clearly baiting Sherlock seeing as if he didn’t want to be seen, he wouldn’t be. Yet there he was, standing next to both Amber and Sibley outside of some large business building. His daughter was clearly happy to be there, laughing with Amber while Moriarty stood next to them, smirking. He frowned. He knew that Sibley knew who he was. At one point he had shown her pictures and told her if she ever saw him, to run. Still, there she was, in the company of his worst enemy. It made since, too. That Moriarty would use her to get to him. His mind went back to standing by that pool, a gun in his hands.

“I’ll burn the heart out of you.”  
“I’ve been reliably informed that I don’t have one.”  
“But we both know that’s not quite true.”

He was right. Back then it might have been John and Mrs. Hudson and maybe even Lestrade and Mycroft, but now… Moriarty had found his heart, he stood next to it in the photo. Right there with Sibley. She was his heart and there she was, right in the grasp of one of the most dangerous men on the planet. 

“I don’t understand, Sibley wouldn’t work with him. Ever.” John insisted, pulling the detective out of his thoughts.

“Clearly she has. I wouldn’t estimate the power of ‘daddy issues’, John. She was looking for acceptance and i’m sure Moriarty was the first one to offer it besides his daughter, Amber.” he explained.

“I can’t believe this. Amber always seemed like a good person. She and Sibley were very close.” John claimed. 

“I don’t doubt that. It is possible that she didn’t even know her father was using her.” Mycroft said.

“That sounds exactly like something he would do,” Sherlock snarled.

“Mmm, yes, I wouldn’t mark Moriarty as father of the year. What do you plan on doing, brother?” Mycroft asked. Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t just go to her. She wouldn’t come with him. He couldn’t kidnap her, there were way too many things that could go wrong, Moriarty’s security, Moriarty himself, her reaction in the end. No, that could lose her to him forever, she had to understand what she was doing by teaming up with the serial killer. She had to already know, though. Sibley may have not been a genius but, despite what Sherlock says, she wasn’t an idiot. No, if she was actually choosing him, there had to be a really good reason, one that Sherlock probably wouldn’t be able to talk her out of. She was stubborn, just like him. He didn’t know what to do. Of course, he would never admit that, especially not to his brother.

“What, the great Mycroft Holmes doesn’t already have a plan?” he sassed. Mycroft smirked. He knew Sherlock had no idea what to do. No course of action.

“You’re going to have to use your newfound sentimentality for this one, brother dear. The only person who can truly fix this, is you.” Mycroft replied.

“I don’t know how,” Sherlock spat through his teeth. He really, really, hated admitting defeat. 

“You need to figure it out. I can’t deal with this one for you,” Mycroft said. If John didn’t know better, he would have said Mycroft almost sounded… regretful. Sherlock just growled and turned, storming out of the office, his partner and flatmate hot on his heels. 

When they arrived back to 221B John wasted no time before turning on Sherlock. He was angry. Sibley was clearly a sensitive young girl. Between her mother and taking care of herself and now dealing with her arrogant arse hole of a father, she had to have some issues. She had been neglected from a young age. She needed care and love. John had tried to tell Sherlock this on many occasions, but the stubborn sod never listened and now they were in a mess. A mess that could end up in the death of a young, teenage, girl. He was fuming.

“I told you! I said it over and over, Sherlock! You should have been kind to her! Why in the world would you even say those things to her. It’s no secret you’re a brutally honest jerk, but the way you treated Sibley was too far. The things you said to her. The way you treated her. Now look what’s happened! She could end up dead and it’ll be all your fault! Why? What possessed you to act like that?!” John shouted.

“I was scared!” Sherlock shouted back on instinct. It took John aback. Scared? Sherlock Holmes just admitted to fear. Well, that was new.

“What do you mean, scared? What on earth does that have to do with anything?” he was still cold, but he wasn’t nearly as loud this time. 

“I got close to her, John, attached. It took us weeks to find her because my brain wasn’t clear. She was kidnapped because of me, John.” he said.

“So you thought you should insult and bully her and it would fix things?” his voice was now gentle, yet, still, stern.

“I don’t know! I just… I needed for both of us to not be so close to each other.” he sighed. John glared at him and shook his head. 

“Sherlock Holmes, you're a bloody idiot.” he said. With that, he turned around and walked out the door, leaving Sherlock to mope by himself, trying to figure out what to with his daughter. 

He sighed as he paced the floor before finally pulling out his phone. She may not be answering his texts or calls, but she would still see them. He found his mind came up blank as he stared down at the small screen. What could he possibly say? John was right, he had messed up, big time. Now here he was trying to make it right but he wasn’t sure he could. After typing and erasing and typing again over and over he finally gave up. Tossing his phone on the couch before falling next to it and running his hands down his face. 

The flat was silent. Empty. It only made his thoughts louder as they rattled around in his brain. When his phone began to ring, he was relieved and, in hopes it might be Sibley, he scrambled to pick it up, only to find that it was Molly. He huffed and fell back onto the couch with the intention to ignore it when he realized he needed her. He picked it up and answered. 

“Sibley's not answering her phone, is she alright? What have you done?” the woman asked. 

“Molly… She's left… I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finished all of the pre-written chapters for this book, huzzah! I have started on the sequel, I'm early enough in that I can probably incorporate some requests, just leave anything you want in the comments below! I'll also be taking one-shot and imagine requests for anything that might not fit into the actual storyline, so if you even want to do an au or a cool crossover, let me know!


	15. With Us Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first she didn’t understand why he had any interest in her at all. She knew he only had her around because he was trying to get under her fathers skin, but he seemed really invested in her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did I fail so hard at my publish every three days plan?! It's not even that hard, all I have to do is publish the pre-written chapter! Anyways, I'm rather sorry about that, but here it is! I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think! I love hearing opinions!

Sibley woke up in a soft bed, softer than anything she had ever been in before, wrapped in silk sheets. She was only disoriented for a second before realization washed over her in waves. She was in Jim Moriarty’s house. She had agreed to stay and train with Jim Moriarty and his gooney’s just to spite her father and get some strength. It wasn’t the worst thing she could have done, she reasoned. She could have gone and killed a bunch of people or something to get her father’s attention. No one would be too surprised as everyone naturally expected Sherlock Holmes’ daughter to be crazy like him. She supposed she was pretty close to the whole serial killer thing though. She was in ones house. 

She shook the thoughts away. No, she wasn’t Jim Moriarty’s accomplice or anything. He was just offering her a chance to prove herself. There was nothing wrong with taking it. She imagines under certain circumstances, Sherlock would do the same. He didn’t seem like one to pass up any opportunity and neither would she. 

She untangled herself from the sheets and slowly walked out of the room she had been given. She moved to Amber’s room and peaked in. Of course Amber was still dead asleep, far from an early bird. Sibley closed the door softly behind her and tip toed over, climbing in next to her. Amber stirred, she liked to sleep in, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a light sleeper. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled upon seeing Sibley.

“Morning,” she grumbled, voice groggy from sleep.

“Morning,” Sibley whispered back. 

“How’d you sleep?” Amber asked her, voice soft in the morning quiet.

“Amazing, that bed was great,” Sibley said. Amber chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, my father’s nothing if not good at finding the best of everything,” she said.

“You got that right. What a house,” she grinned. Amber just smiled at her and snuggled up closer to her, taking in Sibley’s warmth. The girls layed there together for quite some time before there was a loud knock on the door. Amber rolled her eyes and sat up.

“Come in!” she called.

“Morning girls! Time for breakfast! We have a long day ahead!” Moriarty sang after opening the door.

“It’s 7:30, let me sleep in,” Amber groaned, pulling the covers over her head. Sibley watched as Moriarty rolled his eyes.

“I will drag you out of the bed and throw you into the pool,” he threatened.

“Oh, God, don’t be so dramatic, I’m up,” she pouted, sitting up. It was quite obvious to Sibley that Amber had at least once been dragged out of bed to then be thrown into a cold swimming pool and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shudder.

“Good. See you downstairs in five minutes!” he called before closing the door.

“He has so much energy,” Sibley admonished.

“I know, it’s the worst. Come on, if we don’t get downstairs in five minutes he’ll be angry,” she said, standing and digging through her drawers. She pulled some out and threw them at Sibley and they both got changed before rushing into the kitchen. Well, Sibley thought, day one of… weirdness… has commenced.

~~~

“Come ooonnn, Sibley, I know you can do better!” Moriarty shouted at her from the side of the mats. Her body was glistening from sweat, her hair that was pulled back as best as it could be with it’s short length was damp. She was in the training room that was in Moriarty’s big ass house and a huge man named Sebastian Moran was training with her. It had been about two weeks since she had arrived at this point and she was already getting better, but damn, this guy fought hard and she was incredibly intimidated by him. Finding out he was Jim Moriarty’s right hand man and lead sniper didn’t help matters. She also wasn’t sure why Jim kept insisting on watching so many of her training sessions. She didn’t work for him or do anything for him. At first she didn’t understand why he had any interest in her at all. She knew he only had her around because he was trying to get under her fathers skin, but he seemed really invested in her. He was also kind to her, he complimented her as well as gave her constructive criticism and he really seemed to care. He was a better father than Sherlock had been so far. She found herself desperate to please him. 

Moran went to throw a punch and she didn’t dodge it in time. He also didn’t hit her as carefully this time and she felt her nose begin to bleed. He stopped and looked down at her as she stumbled back.

“Sebastian!” Moriarty scolded running over to her. He put his fingers under her chin to inspect the damage. 

“Are you alright?” he asked her gently, his warm brown eyes searching her face. She nodded and pulled away.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing a towel and pressing it to the blood.

“I think we’re done for the day,” he said, waving Sebastian away who only nodded and disappeared. She only watched him, breathing heavily, as he walked away.

“Crap, did Sebastian get you?” Amber sighed running in.

“I’m fine, it happens,” Sibley rolled her eyes and pulled the bloody rag away from her face. Amber shook her head.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, leading her away. She followed, not bothering to argue as they walked away from Amber’s father. 

“Sorry, sometimes he forgets how strong he is,” she said as they sat in the bathroom.

“Amber, it’s fine. I’m fine. I can take it,” Sibley insisted.

“I know I just… I don’t like seeing you hurt,” she sighed, dabbing at her friends face with a new, wet, rag.

“That’s the point of this, though, remember? To get me to a point where I can stop others from hurting me,” Sibley said, putting her hands around Amber’s back and pulling her to where she was sitting on Sibley’s legs. Amber put her own hands on the back of Sibley’s neck. 

“I know, it doesn’t make it any easier watching you bleed. Speaking of, it’s stopped.” she said.

“I figured since you put the rag back in the sink,” she chuckled. Amber smiled and leaned down, the girls connected lips for a second before pulling apart. Amber stood up and stretched.

“Alright, now take a shower, you stink,” she said. Sibley rolled her eyes.

“Jerk,” she called as Amber sauntered out of the bathroom, laughing. Sibley grinned and leaned back on the toilet seat. This was her life now.

~~~

Sibley walked into her room, towel wrapped her around her torso. Her phone screen was lit up as a call showed on the screen. She rolled her eyes, annoyed, and moved into the closet where she now had many of her own clothes that Moriarty insisted on getting her and got changed. Sherlock, Molly, John, and Mycroft would not stop blowing up her phone. She had answered Molly’s call the first time but when the pathologist tried to talk her out of ehr decision to stay with the Moriarty family, she hung up and put her on the list of people to ignore. She was happy here. She was treated right here. She felt like she belonged here. She had a girlfriend here. She had no desire to go back to any of the people that refused to leave her alone.

There was a knock on the door and Sibley called for them to come in. Amber came in, closing the door behind her, and walked over. She glanced down at the screen. 

“Molly again?” she asked. Falling onto the bed. 

“Yes. She's called three times in a row.” Sibley sighed. She loved Molly and would like to call and talk to her, but Molly didn't just want to talk. Molly wanted to make excuses for Sherlock and beg her to end her connections with the Moriartys. With her girlfriend and the man who was much more of a father to her after two weeks than Sherlock had been in months. No. She didn't want to go back. She didn't want to leave her hopefully new found family. Amber sat down and rejected the call. 

“They'll give up eventually,” she said. Sibley nodded and sat next to her.

“I know. Then we can finally have some peace.” she said. Amber laced her fingers with her. 

“Just me and you,” she said. Sibley nodded and gave her hand a squeeze. 

“Me and you.”

~~~

Sibley sighed picking up her phone and opening up the text from Sherlock. Another ‘Call me. Urgent’ message. She scrolled through the back up to a few days before she left. Sherlock’s one word responses to her needing something. Even going as far as to insult her and clearly insinuate his annoyance in having to do something for her despite that she rarely asked for anything. She screamed in frustration and threw her phone against the wall. Angry with Sherlock for being a jerk and angry at herself because she was crying. A sharp knock at the door and a ‘come in’ later, Jim was standing in her room. He glanced over at the phone and then back to her. 

“What was that for?” he asked, amused. She laughed, though it was a humorless laugh, and shook her head. 

“My stupid father.” she growled. 

“Yes, Sherlock likes to pretend he's the hero, but he's the villain in most cases.” Moriarty said, picking up the now broken phone. 

“Suppose we should get you a new one, come on.” he said. 

“Okay, where's Amber?” Sibley asked, standing. 

“Training. It's just us.” he said. She shrugged not really caring, Moriarty was strange yet somehow she was comfortable around him. 

They bought the phone rather quickly, the entire staff hell bent on pleasing her, or, Moriarty, rather. Being the rich, scary, man who wasn't afraid to skin people alive had its advantages, she supposed. She shook that away, not liking to think about Moriarty’s business and looked at him across the table. They were in the food court and he had taken a wipe and wiped his entire area down before finally sitting. She laughed at him but he didn't seem to mind. 

“So, what has that idiot father of yours done this time?” he asked. She rolled her eyes. 

“Nothing new I just… I can't forget the things he's said every time he tries to contact me or I see him on the news… It hurts… I wish it didn't, but it does.” she sighed, eyes rolling to the sky to try and prevent herself from crying. 

“What things did he say?” Jim asked gently. When she looked back down at him, his expression was full of concern for her. He actually cared. 

“I- I don't know… Stupid stuff really… He'd say I was an idiot that I was useless and a waste of time….” she put a hand to her mouth and shut her eyes tightly. "He once said I was a waste of space and got too much in the way of everything. God, I wish I didn’t care so much,” she let her face fall in her hands as she began to shake, small pools of tears collecting in her palms and sliding out the sides. Suddenly, she felt to arms wrap around her and pull her up. She buried her head in Moriarty’s chest as he rubbed her back and kissed the crown of her head.

“No sense in worrying about him anymore,” he whispered, “You're with us now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I kind of want to do a Moriarty and Amber spin-off or something XD


	16. She silently prayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She ignored the burning where her body hit the ground and got up to run again.

Sherlock didn't enjoy going to his brother for help. The man was arrogant and pompous and Sherlock didn't need the berating, but he really needed his help. So he, in a rare instance, swallowed his pride and called Mycroft. After some convincing the elder Holmes brother finally agreed to help Sherlock corner her, but that was the extent of his help. He was serious when he said this was all on Sherlock. 

He had become more determined with each picture that surfaced on his computer. Pictures of her and Amber laughing at a nail salon. Amber, Moriarty, and Sibley at dinner clearly enjoying themselves. Then there was the one of her and Moriarty in a mall, his arms wrapped around her as if he actually cared. At first he had though her stupid, but then he realized had he not been so stupid himself, Sibley wouldn't have had to seek comfort in a psychopath. 

He walked into the coffee shop, mind solely focused on his daughter who was laughing across from Amber, warm cup cradled in her hands. He smiled some. He hadn't seen her in a month and a half, but she looked happy. As he got closer, though, he noticed the bruises. On her jaw, her bare shoulder, and her collar bone. She didn't seem to mind them though, seemingly still the bright young girl despite Moriarty and whatever he had done. Surely she wasn't okay with it. 

She looked up and her eyes fell on him. Her expression turned stormy but she didn't get up. Didn't look away. Didn't shake in fear. She just raised an eyebrow, an unsaid question between them. Why was he here? Couldn't he just leave her alone? He walked forward and Amber turned, glaring him down.

“What?” Sibley asked, tone ice cold and unrelenting.

“I need to talk to you… Alone.” he said. The girls shared a look and Sibley nodded. Amber sighed and stood up, making her way to the counter to chat with a barista she knew. Sherlock took the now empty seat across from his child. 

“Why are you here?” she asked him. 

“Come home.” he said. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair.

“Why should I? Why do you even care? It's not like you wanted me there anyways. You should be happy.” she snapped. He sighed and she tried to cover up her shock as his exhaustion became clear on his face. 

“I messed up, Sibley. I'm sorry. I just… I don't do emotions or sentiment so you scare me. You scare me, Sibley, because I care for you. Because I know that if anything happened to you, I would be destroyed. Because of that, I pushed you away and I'm sorry. Just please come home.” he begged. She blinked, eyes beginning to water. 

“I have a home now. People who actually care about me. Who aren't afraid of being a bit emotional. I don't need you.” she did a good job at hiding her sorrow, but Sherlock still caught it. Before he could reply, Amber rushed over. 

“Come on Sibley, my dad wants us back,” she said. Sibley nodded and just looked at Sherlock before grabbing her bag and following her friend out the door. 

~~~

It was late, insanely late, but Sibley’s sleeping patterns had been becoming worse by the day. Nights were plagued with nightmares and doubts and she found that sleep was hard to find in those situations. She finished making herself a mug of tea and moved to carry it into her room so she could cocoon herself in blankets and read until the early hours of the morning, but voices stopped her. No one was ever up at this time, her nightly habits had become routine and this was new. She hovered by the door to Moriarty’s office.

“How much longer are you going to let her live?” Sebastian’s voice carried through the door.

“Not long now, the game is coming to an end,” Moriarty replied.

“Hm… You got lucky, who knew Sherlock would have such a vulnerable daughter,” Sebastian laughed. Moriarty chuckled along with him.

“Daddy issues… Makes everything easier. Her infatuation with Amber helped too,” Moriarty explained.

“Yes. She’s becoming quite the criminal. Just like her father, luring in those close to the target,” Sebastian said.

“Yes, I was afraid at first, but she did well. She is quite the actress, isn’t she?” 

Sibley’s brain processed the information she was hearing and, once it caught up to her, she dropped her mug, the glass shattered on the hardwood floor and instantly, Moriarty’s office doors flew open. He spotted her and snarled angrily. She stumbled back and began to run. She could hear the two men’s heavy footsteps follow her but she didn’t turn around. Luckily, she was smaller than them and that meant quicker. Her bare feet hit the gravel outside, the cold London air bit into her skin. The rough surface under her feet slowed her down and Sebastian caught up to her, grabbing her from behind. She screeched and tried to do one of the moves he taught her, but he knew what she was planning before she even began. She bit him in the arm, causing him to cry out in pain and loosen his grip on her.

She took her chance and ran into the wood, scrambling up a tree. She looked down right as Moriarty and Sebastian arrived.

“Come on out, Sibley, there’s nowhere to go!” Moriarty shouted, opening his arms, “We can work this out!” he shouted. She held her breath as they were standing right below her.

God, please don’t let them look up. If I get out of this, I swear on the Harry Potter series i’ll be a better person.

She silently prayed. Sadly, it must not have been enough as right then, Sebastian looked straight at her. The smile that appeared on her face sent shivers down her spine. It was chilling. She had the sensation of a predator spotting it’s meal. Moriarty saw where he was looking and turned to see her too. He frowned.

“Oh, Sibley, I was having so much fun. Now you’ve gone and RUINED EVERYTHING!” he shouted. She was shaking from fear, hot tears running down her cheeks that were probably already red from the cold. She watched in terror as a Moriarty aimed his gun at her. He shot right next to her and she screamed as she fell out of the trees, scraping her skin on the sticks and rocks below her. She ignored the burning where her body hit the ground and got up to run again. Moriarty didn't shoot again. She had a feeling he missed on purpose he first time. He needed her alive. 

She almost tripped over a rock. When she looked down the noticed it was about the size of two tennis balls. She didn't even think as she picked it up and threw it with all her might at Sebastian’s face. It hit his head and immediately started bleeding as he stumbled back into Moriarty, knocking him over. She then darted through the trees as fast as she could, putting as much distance as possible between her and the two evil men behind her. 

She arrived onto a street where cars zoomed by. She waved down a cab, thankful she acquired her father's skill for hailing cabs and climbed in the back. 

“Scotland Yard, step on it!” she shouted as she slammed the door. The man didn't bother asking as he sped to their destination. 

~~~

She sat on an armchair in Lestrade’s office, wrapped in a warm blanket, hot chocolate in her hands. She was still shaking and crying. Moriarty wanted to kill her or capture her or whatever. Amber never felt anything for her. In truth it was the main reason she had stayed. It was all a lie and she really should have known. She shouldn't have trusted Amber so easily, especially after learning of her lineage, but Sibley had never judged people from where the came from. Stupid. So incredibly stupid.

Honestly, getting so close to Jim Moriarty was her biggest mistake. It’s not like it even got her any important information, he was too secretive for that. No, she had trusted him so quickly. She found comfort in him, enjoyed his presence. The idea that she might have some kind of caring parental figure in her life had been so exciting she forgot who it was that she was leaning on. The same man that killed and maimed people like it was nothing.

The weight of her choice finally hit her. God, what was wrong with her? She moved in with a killer all because she was mad at her dad and wanted to snog the man’s daughter. How idiotic and dramatic was she? Plus, Moriarty probably wanted to kill Sherlock also and it didn't matter what Sherlock had said or done, she didn't want him to die. After everything, she still longed for his love and approval. She had royally screwed this one up.

Sherlock rushed into the room to find his daughter covered in cuts and scrapes and looking downright miserable. She didn't notice him at first, clearly stuck in her mind. He watched her for a moment, John standing silently next to him. 

“Sibley.” he said. She flinched and looked up at him, her eyes widening. She began to cry even harder. 

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It was stupid. I was stupid. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me.” she sobbed. He walked over and awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. He knelt down to her eye level. 

“No. Moriarty is manipulative as is his daughter. We both made stupid decisions, but that doesn't matter now.” he said. She looked at him. 

“B-b-but I went to your enemy. I went to a killer! Because I was angry! It was horrible! I should be l-locked up or something! I'm a dumb, dramatic, fool!” she cried, getting worked up. Sherlock grabbed the sides of her arms. 

“Listen to me, Sibley. No one is getting locked up. Your father is a sociopath, no one is blaming you, okay. You made a stupid impulsive decision, it doesn't make you stupid or bad.” he said. She sniffed before quickly putting her hot chocolate on the table beside her and throwing herself into her father's arms. He was surprised with himself when he instinctively wrapped his arms around her and held her. She sobbed into him and he kissed the crown of her head, whispering soothing words into her ear. 

Slowly but surely Sibley calmed down in his arms. They sat on the floor, Sherlock sitting Indian style, Sibley in his lap as if she were a small child again, the room silent besides her occasional sniffle. John had left to give them some space and Lestrade just didn't come in, which he only sort of annoyed him because it was his office, but he let it go this time. Sibley breathed in the familiar scent of ink, nicotine, and cologne. 

“This isn't over, is it?” she asked quietly. He held her tighter. 

“No,” he sighed, “no it isn't.” they were silent for a few more moments before she spoke again. 

“Dad, I'm afraid.” she muttered. Sherlock froze for a moment, a flurry of emotion and confusion swirling through his mind. 

“I'm not going to let him hurt you.” he said. 

“You can't guarantee that,” she replied. 

“No, but I can try.” he answered. She nodded again him.

“I trust you.”


	17. A Lot Like Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead he stood up and walked out of the room, after a moment he came back, blanket and pillow in his hands. He tossed them at her and she sighed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, some fluff before we get into the even worse parts, because it gets worse...

House arrest was the worst. Of course, Sibley didn’t exactly have a choice, Moriarty was out there, probably livid, and she was in danger. Due to this impending doom that seemed to now follow her everywhere she went, she was stuck in the walls of 221 Baker Street. Sometimes she would get bored and go hang out with Mrs. Hudson or go to 221C and work on fixing it up. People had come by recently to clean up the mold and such so it was now safe for her to make it her own space. Still, though, she was insanely bored, being stuck inside was not her idea of a good time. She needed to do something. Be productive. She was insanely ahead on school work, finally picking up on things and the fact that it was online and she could go at her own pace. What didn’t help was that she couldn’t sleep the hours away either. Whenever she did manage to get some shuteye, she had nightmares and would quickly wake up, sweaty and shaking. 

However, she wouldn’t dare try and leave the flat. She wasn’t the best at following authority and typically being cooped up meant she would just sneak out and do what she wanted, but that wasn’t an option. Moriarty terrified her to her core. After coming down from the anger at Sherlock and lust for Amber, she truly began to realize the weight of everything. She had slept in the same home as a psychopath. It was awful.

Some nights, her terrors held a cabbie, killing her before she could be found. Others held Moriarty and Sebastian and all sorts of horrors. She regretted the bright idea to do more research on Moriarty and his crimes because it only fed her brain more ammo to torture her with in her sleep. James Moriarty was freaking crazy. He was also heartless. Sibley knew that if he found her, she wouldn’t make it. She would suffer and nothing would hold him back. He lacked the humanity to care about what happened to her. Her father had even told her that everything he did was to rid his boredom. He came up with insanely creative ways to murder and torture people because he was bored. It sent shivers down her spine.

One particular night, one that happened to be worse than others, she couldn’t control herself. Typically, she just woke up crying, quiet enough that the residents of the flat slept through her misery, but not this night. This night, she could feel the pain inflicted on her in her mind. She could see her captors laughing and watching her with black, hollow eyes. And Moriarty…..   
This dream was enough to send her into a frenzy. She screamed, kicking and turning in her sleep. 

Sherlock had been downstairs, eyes scanning his laptop screen as he worked to find a way to take down Moriarty. Just knowing where they were staying wasn't enough. Moriarty was too powerful with too much influence and not enough evidence piled up against him for anything. Besides, he would never make it so easy for himself to be captured. He needed to figure out Moriarty’s game and soon. He could tell Sibley was getting more antsy every day and he knew she got her restlessness from him, her being bored for too long wasn't going to end well. Plus watching her suffer and lounge around, horrified to be alone lest Moriarty take her, was too much for him. As he was working, he heard her scream, loud and terrified. He jumped from his chair and sprinted to her room. John was out of his own room within seconds, hot on his flatmates heels. 

Sherlock slammed the door open, flipping on the lights, to find the room empty. Sibley was still screaming, but her eyes were closed as she jerked around on the bed. Sherlock barely had a second breath of relief before he ran over to the edge of the bed. John backed out of the room quietly, relieved that she was okay, worried about her fear, and ready to let Sherlock handle it as he went to make tea to calm his adrenaline down so that he could sleep. Sherlock grabbed her and held her into him, not too put out by her thrashing and trying to calmly wake her. She stopped with a jolt, pulling up with a force. 

When her eyes opened they were wide and full of terror. She didn't stop her thrashing, now she pulled herself out of Sherlock arms- which he let her knowing she'd come back to reality in a few seconds- and scrambled off the bed and to the back of the wall. He watched her with a raised eyebrow as she looked around. Slowly she began to breathe as she took in her surroundings. She looked at Sherlock and sighed in relief, finally back to real life. Still, her tears didn't subside. She climbed back onto the bed. 

“Sorry,” she muttered, blushing in embarrassment. He sighed and shook his head. 

“You couldn't help it.” he told her matter of factly. 

“No but still,” she sighed. 

“Still nothing. No point in apologizing for something you couldn't control. It's a natural part of humanity, perfectly normal.” he stated. She laid her head on the headboard and closed her eyes, her eyes slowly stopped leaking. 

“You should go do whatever it was you were doing before I woke up the entire freaking neighborhood.” she said. 

“You want to be left alone?” he asked, incredulous. She looked over at him and shrugged. 

“I- I'm fine.” she said, looking at her lap. 

“Don't lie to me, you're rather awful at it.” he said. She let out a few stray tears. 

“Come on then, let's get you some cocoa.” he said, standing and holding his hand out to her. She looked at him, suspicion in her eyes, but took it. He helped her up and didn't pull away when she didn't let go of his hand and led her into the kitchen. She slowly clambered up onto the counter, letting her legs hang off the side as Sherlock put a kettle on. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. 

“No.” she answered definitely, shaking her head. He accepted this rather gratefully and continued to work in the silence. 

Her tears had ended at some point but started again a few moments later. Clearly her mind was going ramped. Sherlock had always hated phrases that spoke about the heart in terms of feelings. Feelings were a matter of the brain, not the heart. That being said, it broke his heart to watch his daughter silently cry. He had been told once by someone that silent crying from your children was the worst and he found the sentimentality ridiculous, but now he understood. He could tell how much pain she was in and it hurt to watch that. 

“I'm not going to let him hurt you, Sibley.” he said. 

“You'll try. It might happen, don't make absolutes, it will make for misplaced guilt in the future should something happen.” she said. She sounded so much like him. He eyed her but didn’t reply as he continued on making her beverage. He poured the hot liquid into the mug and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and slid off the counter, moving into the sitting room and easing herself into the sofa. John was sitting in his chair, sipping on tea. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” she asked. 

“No worries love, I wasn't sleeping very well anyways,” he said, giving her a soft smile. She just nodded, drawing into herself as she drank. Sherlock sat in his chair and watched her carefully. She was rigid and shaking. What could she possibly have dreamt of that still stuck with her long after it was over? 

Eventually John went back to bed but the Holmes’ stayed in the room, Sherlock getting back to work and Sibley reading a book. Every once in a while Sherlock would look over at her and he kept seeing her begin to doze off but then sit upright again. She was terrified to go back to sleep. He imagined most of her nightmares contained the cabbie or the possibility of what could had happened had Moriarty caught her. She didn't exactly have time for him to scare the hell out of her. Then again, she probably saw what he did and what he was capable of while she was there. Knowing that the same man was now her enemy probably did horrify her. 

It was late though and Sibley had been extra emotional as of late. As a growing teenager with lots of emotional things going on, she really needed to sleep. It was the healthiest option for her. With these thoughts, Sherlock closed his lap top and turned. 

“Sibley, you need to go to sleep.” he said. She looked up from her book. 

“I-i’m okay.” she said. He felt bad. He knew she was frightened of further nightmares and he didn't want that for her either, but she really didn't have any other choice. 

“What could I do to help you sleep?” he asked. She smiled slightly at the offer, but it was gone as soon as it came. 

“Nothing, I don't think.” she muttered. He cringed at the failed grammar but didn't comment on it. Instead he stood up and walked out of the room, after a moment he came back, blanket and pillow in his hands. He tossed them at her and she sighed, but got herself settled on the couch. He flicked off the lights and pulled the chair the clients normally sit on next to the couch. She frowned at the image of his silhouette, confused. He then reached out and began to run his fingers softly through her hair, beginning to soothe her. 

“I'm right here, you're safe and you can go to sleep, I won't leave. I'll wake you up if you begin to have another nightmare.” he promised. She yawned, nodding under his hand and slowly began to fall asleep. 

~~~

Sibley woke up on the couch and true to his word, Sherlock hadn't left, he did move, but only to his arm chair where he himself was fast asleep. John was sitting in his chair in silence but she did catch him smirking at the two of them before going back to his paper. She groaned and stretched out before sitting up, pushing her blanket to the side and walking into the kitchen where she made coffee. 

“Dad,” she said, voice soft as she nudged him awake, mug of black coffee in her free hand. His eyes shot open and he sat up. He was an extremely light sleeper. She held his coffee out to him and he took it, grunting thank you, which surprised John because when did Sherlock use manners, but whatever. Sibley pulled her computer to her and clicked onto Tumblr, another of the many things she used to pass the time. 

Hours later, John was out getting groceries, Sherlock had solved at least three cases from inside the flat, and Sibley was dying of boredom. She huffed, closing her laptop and looked around. She may not have been a genius, but she did have an imagination, there had to be something she could plan up. 

After several moments, she came up with nothing, but then her eyes landed on her father's favorite instrument. She looked over at him, then back at the violin. 

“Hey, Dad…” she said smiling over at him. 

“Yes?” he asked, not looking up from the computer screen. 

“Wanna teach me how to play the violin?” she asked. He looked up from the computer instantly, then smiled. 

~~~

John walked into the flat, carrying in the groceries that had originally just been sitting in his girlfriends flat as he needed time away from the Holmes and their boredom. He heard the familiar sound of Sherlock playing the violin and smiled. He did enjoy listening to him play, he was rather good at it. This time it wasn't as fluid and clean as Sherlock normally was, but it wasn't too far off. 

When he got up the stairs to see that it wasn't Sherlock playing, but Sibley, he was surprised. Sherlock was watching her from his chair with a smile that looked a lot like pride, and she was staring hard at the instrument in her hands as she moved the bow. When she stopped, John clapped. 

“Brilliant! Did you just learn that?” he asked. She blushed and nodded. 

“Yes. You did mess up a few notes but that was rather good, Sibley,” Sherlock praised. She grinned in excitement, wanting nothing but to please her father. John smiled at Sherlock’s words, he was slowly learning, it seemed. 

“Hold on, you're telling me that in the last nine hours you learned that?” John asked in amazement. She shrugged and nodded, putting the violin back in its case. John was shocked. First, Sibley was using Sherlock’s violin, his most prized possession. Second, she learned it insanely quickly, impossibly quickly. Third, Sherlock had complimented her even though she hadn't been perfect. Fourth, Sherlock was proud and showing his pride as he spoke about how well she did. 

“That was very quick. Seems she has a knack.” he said. 

“Yes she does.” John sputtered. Sibley was bright red by now, clearly not used to being complimented, but she seemed to be enjoying it all the same. 

“Well, now that you're here John, I have an errand to run.” with that Sherlock stood and rushed out the door. John and Sibley shared a look and she just shrugged. 

~~~

Sherlock came in around an hour later, a violin case in hand. He handed it to her without word and turned to walk into the kitchen to begin an experiment. She watched him, surprised, and then turned back to the case now in her hands. John watched, curious to see what her new instrument looked like. She slowly opened the clasps on the ends of the case and pushed it open. n, inside was a shiny light blue violin, it was beautiful. She pulled it out and held it in her hands. 

“Dad…” she said softly. He walked over to the doorframe and leaned on it.

“This is too expensive. We don’t have this much money,” she muttered.

“I’m a famous detective, we have plenty. Think of it as all the late birthdays and Christmases,” he said. She set it back in its case and ran over to hug him.

“Thank you!” she pulled away, “Teach me more?” she asked. He smirked and walked over to his own violin. There, they began playing.


	18. Pizza and Copper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sibley loved churros. The Cinnamon, gooey, goodness, gave her life. She moaned happily as she took another bite. Sherlock was watching her with amusement clear on his features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of angst, and fluff, and suspense.
> 
> Also, yes, the poem is cheesy and so awful and cringe worthy but it got the job done so *shrugs*

Living in a small flat with an antsy teenager who can't leave but hates to stay in one place is what Sherlock eventually deemed as torcher. With all of her regular emotions and hormones and angst added on top of the stress and frustration and heartbreak (due to Amber) she had now, she was becoming hell to deal with. At the moment, she was laying in her room, blasting some song about betrayal, and John was urging him to go and talk to her and Sherlock did not want to do emotions. He had been dealing with so many of those in the weeks that Sibley had returned, no, since the months that he first met her, and he didn't think he had the energy to do it again.

Still, he ended up outside the door, new lyrics floating through. Over the now male voice you could hear her feminine one singing, or shouting, really, over it.

_It's better to burn than fade away_

_It's better to leave than be replaced_

_I'm losing baby, I'm no match_

_I'm going numb, I've been hijacked_

If her sobs were any indication, she was connecting with the somewhat angry yet sorrowful yet desiring song. Sherlock had grown accustomed to the sound of this males voice and Sibley’s squeals and excitement when it was on. Now, she was breaking apart in her bedroom, not even this ‘Party! at the Dance Floor’ or whatever was cheering her up.

“Sibley.” he called, knocking on the door. There was no pause or flinch in her singing. She hadn't heard him.

_So I damn your kiss and the awful things you do_

_Yeah you're worse than nicotine_

“Sibley!” he said a bit louder. She still didn't reply. He pushed the door open slowly, giving her enough time to shout if she was indecent. She didn't. The only indication that she even realized Sherlock was entering the room was the significant lowering of the volume of her music.

He looked at her, curled up in her bed, blue hair that had long since grown out leaving her with long, dark, roots, was a mess around her head, and her eyes were bloodshot. She sat up, a blank expression on her face, and just stared at him.

He felt bad, he really did. Being stuck here with barely anything to do meant she was often alone with her thoughts. He could only imagine was that must be like for her. He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe.

“What?” she asked. There was no malice behind it or even annoyance. It was more of a tired, careless, tone. He stood silently for a moment, thinking, before he knew what he was going to do.

“Come on. We're going out.” he said, turning to walk out of the room. She stared after him in wide eyes but didn't argue as she scrambled off her bed and closed the door behind him so that she could change. He was amazed at how quickly she came out looking nothing like the mess she had been only minutes before. Dressed in simple jeans and a purple jumper, blue hair curly and lacking the amount of frizz it had before. Her makeup covered the bags that had plagued her features and somehow she had washed the bloodshot look out of her eyes and the redness of her nose. She looked normal and fine. Not like someone who had been spending most of her time crying and waking up screaming during the night.

“Where are we going?” she asked, pulling on a leather jacket.

“Yeah, last time I checked Sibley was to stay here,” John said, crossing his arms as he exited the living room.

“She’ll be fine. She'll be with us.” Sherlock said. He pulled on his belstaff and ran down the stairs, Sibley close behind. John sighed, rolling his eyes, and grabbed his gun before following.

~~~

Sibley loved churros. The Cinnamon, gooey, goodness, gave her life. She moaned happily as she took another bite. Sherlock was watching her with amusement clear on his features.

“Seriously, Dad, try one,” she insisted, sliding the small paper tray in his direction. He made a face at the object in front of him.

“I have no interest in putting that in my body, thanks.” he said. She just snickered and continued to snack. The noise of the arcade was comforting. It meant she wasn't alone and she wasn't still in 221B. She loved the different environment, even if it did smell like pizza and copper. She was so busy watching a particular girl quickly and intensely playing one of the games that she didn't notice when an envelope was dropped in front of Sherlock. He looked up but the person had already disappeared in the crowd. He stood up, knowing Sibley was safe with John who she was now discussing the other girls strategy with, and walked outside.

He opened up the envelope to find a piece of paper embroidered in gold.

_ Princess Run Away Loves to play _

_ But she left the game _

_ Before the flame _

_ But it’s okay she had to run _

_ There's still a chance to have some fun _

_ Princess, the game has begun _

Sherlock shoved the paper in his coat before walking back into the arcade and towards his daughter.

“Time to go home.” he ordered. She nodded and stood, not ready to go back to the flat but also not wanting to argue with him after he gave her an escape for a little while. So, she stood up, throwing her trash away and grabbing her things. Before Sherlock could do anything she wrapped her arms around him.

“Thanks.” she muttered. Then she let go and walked outside.

~~~

Sibley had become a light sleeper as of late. Paranoia making it hard to not jolt awake at the slightest sound. It was well placed paranoia as when she woke up this time, she really was in danger. Arms pulled her into him, hand going over her mouth and nose. She began to struggle and try to scream but the man holding her was making even breathing difficult.

“Shh, Princess. Wouldn’t want to wake Daddy now, would we?” he whispered. Terror gripped her insides. He had gotten her. He had somehow gotten in and now he had her.

“He thinks he can protect you. He’s asleep outside your room now. Too bad you won’t be here when he wakes up,” Moriarty growled. She began to cry and the lack of breathing slowly made her head go light and her eyesight go blurry before she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to post all of the left over chapters. Please let me know what you think and how you feel about the ending and everything!


	19. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock let out an angry growl and swept all of his things off of the table. The glass from the beakers and test tubes shattered everywhere, but Sherlock didn't care. John ran over and stood in the doorway. He looked from the floor to Sherlock. The tall man just swept past his friend and out of the flat.

Sibley was so done being the victim. Done being taken and made a damsel in distress. Once upon a time she was completely independant, taking care of both herself and her mother. Now, though, she wasn’t dealing with normal life problems. Taxes and bills and work and where the next meal would come from seemed like nothing compared to all of her new issues and she couldn’t even handle herself. Sherlock was probably out there looking for her, desperate to save her, while she sat there, tied up and bloody, wishing she could just do something. Had she gone, like a normal person, to get self defense lessons at some business rather than her now kidnapper, he wouldn’t know every single move she was going to make. Then again, normal self defense moves still probably wouldn’t have worked on him. Once she got out of here she was gonna train her ass off to make sure she could never be the victim again.

She wasn’t in the Moriarty’s large, luxurious, home this time. Nor was she in some abandoned warehouse like in the movies. Honestly, she wasn’t quite sure where she was. It was a small, box like, metal room. She was facing away from the door so she could never see out, but everytime someone came in, she could feel a gust of wind follow them. They always came around nighttime, never during the day. She assumed if they did, there would be much more sun flowing in. Sometimes, she could hear noises outside, like the clinging of metal on metal. Birds squawking. During the day she sweat a lot, obviously wherever she was it was hot and seeing as she was in room made of metal, she was always burning up. If she had to guess, she would say she was in a cargo container in a tropical area.

She heard footsteps behind her, the unmistakable click of Moriarty’s dress shoes. She knew on the trip to where she was she had been drugged multiple times, as not only could she barely remember any of it, but she had felt so sick the first few days. Proof of that had come out of her throat and all over Jim’s pristine suit and said shiny shoes. She didn’t feel bad about it, either, even after the severe beating he gave her and then had Sebastian give her. That terrified look on Moriarty’s face had given her life. 

“Jimmy! I've missed you!” she exclaimed, smirking as he appeared in front of her. He chuckled. 

“Someone has gained more of a snarky side. I’m sure a few months ago you wouldn’t be so happy.” he said, crossing his arms.

“Maybe not. Then again, a few months ago this was new to me. I’m kind of the pro at being kidnapped now.” she stated. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’ve only been kidnapped once before,”

“Really? It feels like more than that.” she said. God, she was terrified, but she learned a long time ago that Moriarty fed off of that fear and had slowly learned to cover it up. He grins and in a flash her chin is in his hand, his dark brown eyes boring into her blue ones.

“It’s been a few weeks now. I believe it’s time to discuss our little conflict. How you ran out on me,” he growled. She stared at him in terror, there was no hiding it this time. Moriarty looked absolutely ruthless. Like some beast prepared to hunt its prey. Part of her believed in any second he’d lean down and rip her throat out with his teeth in any moment.

“You were going to k-kill me,” she stuttered. Danm. Over a month without stuttering ruined.

“Yes, but I gave you SO MUCH!” he shouted, letting go of her. She flinched back in fear.

“My daughter, a room in my home, clothes, food, luxury, comfort.” he growled.

“All a facade to hurt my father… You know I actually trusted you. Trusted Amber.” she shook her head.

“Yes, first mistake, don’t trust anyone,” he growled.

“Well, I know that now,” she sighed. He procured a knife from somewhere and twisted it in his hands, the end glinting under the light of the small battery powered lantern Moriarty always brought with him. It was the only time she had any light at all.

“I’m rather excited for this,” he said. Sibley swallowed.

~~~

Sherlock couldn't find anything. There was no word from Moriarty. No usual game clue other than the first letter. Nothing. Sibley had vanished and he had nothing to go on. 

~~~

The human body can bleed out within just one minute. Sibley knew this as it was one of the many facts Sherlock had spat out at random or during one of his experiments or whatever. Due to this, she wasn’t exactly sure why she was even still alive. Blood was everywhere. She wasn’t even sure how many wounds she had or where they were. There were so many that were so deep, all she knew was that she was in pain; and lots of it. She heard the heavy door open and close behind her and soft urgent footsteps come towards her. Light enough to be a woman's, probably a young one, late teens, early twenties. 

“Sibley? Oh my God!” Sibley froze. Amber. 

“What did he do?” she shouted, covering her mouth. After a second she stepped forward and Sibley flinched back, causing her to pause. 

“What are you doing, Amber?” she asked. 

“I- I'm here to help you.” she said, confused at the question. 

“How do I know this isn't some trick? That you're not just helping your father mess with me?” she snapped. Amber's eyes began to gloss over. 

“Sib, I would never. I'm not- I'm not like my dad.” she said. 

“You mean your not Daddy's little actor, luring in the bait. God, I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.” she scoffed, bitter. It didn't sound as harsh as it could have were she not so weak. 

“I took a job because my dad wanted me to meet and see you. I didn't know he had all this planned! I swear! I'm not in on his evil stuff, but I can't exactly tell him no. We both know he has a temper.” she said.

“One minute he has a temper. One minute it's just him training you. Now it's temper again?” she asked. 

“Sibley I swear I would not lie to you. Ever.” she said. 

“How am I supposed to believe that?” Sibley asked. Amber sighed. 

“You might not believe me right now, I understand, but you're going to have to just trust me if you want out of here. It can't get much worse than this.” she said. Sibley thought for a moment before groaning and nodding. 

“Fine. You're going to have to help me, I'm not sure if I can move on my own.” she said. Amber nodded. 

“I brought a wheelchair and first aid. The second I found out you were in my angry father's grasp, I prepared.” she helped Sibley out of the uncomfortable chair and cleaned up as many wounds as she could as best as she could with what little she had before pushing her out of the cargo container and into open air. 

~~~

Sherlock let out an angry growl and swept all of his things off of the table. The glass from the beakers and test tubes shattered everywhere, but Sherlock didn't care. John ran over and stood in the doorway. He looked from the floor to Sherlock. The tall man just swept past his friend and out of the flat. 

~~~

It felt so nice to finally have fresh air on her face that was stale with dried sweat. She heaved out a loud, pained, sigh. There was water everywhere. She looked up to see a long red bridge above them. 

“Where are we?” she asked. 

“Long Beach, California,” Amber answered. 

“California?! We're in the states?!” she exclaimed. She then groaned. 

“Careful. Yes. We are, don't worry, I have a plan.” Amber said. 

“Which is?” Sibley asked. 

~

It was the next morning, Sibley woke up in the hotel bed next to Amber. When they had gotten to the hotel a few hours away from Long Beach, Amber was able to really tend to her friend's (maybe ex friend at this point) wounds with special, expensive, treatments and creams. She felt better. Certainly not perfect, but better all the same. Her hair was no longer blue, but blonde and full of extensions. Amber's typically blonde hair was now brown and she had allowed Sibley to cut it the night before up to her shoulders. They both wore glasses and had baggy clothing at the ready. 

“Morning,” Amber groaned, sitting up. 

“Morning.” she replied. 

They both got up, Sibley still needing a bit of help, and got dressed. Sibley lowered herself into the wheelchair and they went downstairs where they checked out, got in the cab, and headed to the airport. 

In the window seat, Sibley looked over at Amber. She missed her, but could she really trust her?


	20. Two Puddles of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She still saw the bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance....

Sibley grabbed a payphone as soon as they were out of the airport. She typed in the series of numbers she memorized just in case and listened to it ring.

“Hello?” came the frustrated, tired, voice of John Watson. Sibley smiled in relief at the voice and amusement at the fact Sherlock had obviously made John answer the phone.

“John? Can you please put Dad on the phone?” she asked.

“Sibley?!” John asked. Before she could reply John made a disgruntled noise and there was rustling.

“Sibley?” Sherlock’s voice was urgent.

“Yeah, Dad, hey,” she smiled.

“Sibley, where are you?” he asked.

“London City Airport, but i’ll take a cab to you. I have some cash,” she said.

“Don’t you dare. We’re on our way,” before she could object, the line went dead. She had no doubt he was rushing out the door that very moment. She exited the booth to see a worried looking Amber.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you trust me?” she asked. Sibley sighed.

“You never thought he was going to hurt me? Never planned on anything?” she asked. Amber nodded.

“And it wasn’t a lie, you and me? You- you actually cared?” Sibley asked. Again, Amber nodded. Sibley searched the girls features. She was good at picking up liars when she actually paid attention. Amber seemed honest. Besides, it felt real. Everything between them… It was cheesy, but there was no way that feeling between them was fabricated for some plot. No, that was real.

“Yeah. I do.” she finally answered. Amber sighed and nodded.

“Your dad… What’s he gonna do?” Sibley asked. Amber’s eyes filled with terror.

“Oh my God, Sibley. He’s- he’s gonna kill me,” she pressed her hand to her mouth and began to shake with fear.

“No, Amber, you can stay with us, don’t worry,” Sibley insisted. 

“Nothing can stop him,” she said.

“Amber.” Sibley ordered. Amber looked up at her.

“We’ll be fine. No matter what. It’s you and me.” she insisted. Amber nodded and took in a breath.

“You and me.” 

They waited a little longer before a blue and red lights appeared along with a loud siren. The back door to the car opened and slammed and Sherlock ran towards them, John and Lestrade right behind them. He pulled Sibley out of the wheelchair and into his arms before she could protest. He put her down after a moment and then turned to Amber, eyeing her up and down.

“You helped her escape?” he asked. She nodded.

“Your dad isn’t going to be happy,” he said. She shook her head.

“She’s coming with us,” Sibley said. Sherlock just nodded. Paramedics from the ambulance came over and lifted Sibley onto a gurney, much to her annoyance, and dragged her to the large vehicle. 

“You can’t protect me, Mr. Holmes,” Amber said. He looked down at her. 

“I can and I will.” he said.

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“Because if I didn’t my daughter would kill me.” he said. She smirked and they watched as Sibley was patched up in the ambulance. 

~~~

“I can’t believe he had the time to do all of this while he also had me tied up all the way in the states!” Sibley exclaimed, watching the news from a week before where Moriarty sat covered in jewels with a crown on his head.

“He’s so arrogant,” Amber seethed.

“I’m no longer distracted now, I’ll get him,” Sherlock said.

“But the jury already declared him innocent,” Sibley insisted.

“Yes. He blackmailed them. Every single person.” Sherlock replied.

“Couldn’t you prove that happened, somehow?” Sibley asked. Sherlock shook his head.

“I’m sure I could but it would be pointless. No, we need to find the code he used. That’s the key,” he replied.

“How are you going to do that?” Sibley asked. Sherlock looked at her, then at Amber. The other teenager shook his head. Sherlock began drumming his fingers on the table.

“He visited yesterday,” he said. Sibley stood abruptly.

“While I was with Mycroft?!” she asked. It had been two days since Sibley came back to London and she and Amber had been in Mycroft's the day before while Sherlock had to work on a case and couldn’t protect them at the flat.

“Yes.” he replied, giving her a look. She frowned but slowly lowered herself onto the chair. Again she was hurt and being forced to stay ‘resting’. She didn’t want to rest.

“Well did he leave anything?” John asked. Sherlock shook his head.

“Did he touch anything?” Amber asked.

“Only an apple,” he said. Everyone sat in silence for several moments before Sherlock stood much like Sibley had minutes before.

“Come on, John, we’re going to Saint Barts. Girls, stay here, Mycroft has men stationed outside, you’ll be fine.” he said. Sibley watched as he left. Her eyes fell back onto the table in front of her and she picked up a newspaper. Whoever Kitty Riley was, Sibley had decided she didn’t like her. How could anyone claim Moriarty was made up? This wasn’t Iron Man and Moriarty wasn’t the mandarin, this was real. Sibley could attest to that having dealt with everything she had dealt with. Even after being kidnapped, how could they still say it was fake? 

Then there was the Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson, thing. She knew Donovan and Anderson didn’t like her dad, but to go as far as saying he could have done this? It was horrid, and Lestrade? He was like an uncle to her. He and Sherlock were friends. How could he possibly do this? It made her sick to her stomach. 

“I can’t believe this crap.” she scoffed. Amber shook her head.

“I’m so sorry.” she sighed. Sibley laid her head on her friends shoulder.

“Will anything be the same ever again?” 

~~~

Sibley and Amber were having tea with Mrs. Hudson when John burst in. All three of them jumped in surprise.

“You’re right here.” he said looking, at Mrs. Hudson. 

“We’re just having some tea!” Mrs. Hudson said.

“But- I gotta text- you had been shot. I went to the hospital and looked for you,” John said. The girls shared a look. Sherlock was up to something.

“Okay, that’s it, let’s go.” Sibley stood and rushed out the door, Amber right behind her.

“You can’t go out alone!” John called after them. 

“Then come on!” they called.

~~~

As they exit a cab and rush towards the hospital, Sibley’s phone began to ring. She frowned and put it to her ear.

“Dad? What’s going on?” she asked

“Stop what you’re doing.” he ordered.

“No, we’re coming inside.” she insisted. 

“Sibley, please just do what I ask. Stop.” he said. She paused and sighed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Turn around and look up.” he said. She shared a wary look with John and Amber before turning and doing as she was told. Her father stood on the edge of the rooftop. 

“Oh my God. Dad, what the hell?” she asked. 

“I ... I ... I can’t come down, so we’ll ... we’ll just have to do it like this.” he said. 

“Do what? What's going on?” she asked. 

“I need to apologize, Sibley. I- I'm not exactly father of the year, but I tried.” he said. 

“Shut up. You shut up you bloody idiot.” she ordered. 

“I- I need to admit. It's true. It's all a lie. I created Moriarty. I made him kidnap you I made this whole thing up.” he said. 

“We both know that's not true.” she said. 

“It is, Sibley, I'm a fake.” he said. 

“Dad, I'm not stupid. I don't know why you're doing this, but I know you and have been through enough that I know it's not fake. Don't treat me like an idiot.” she demanded. He chuckled over the phone. 

“Never… Listen, Sibley, this phone call, it's my note. That's what people do, right? Leave a note?” he asked. 

“What? Dad. Stop. Right now. Whatever this is. Stop.” 

“Sibley. I love you.” he said. 

“I love you too. Don't do this.” she insisted. 

“Goodbye.” he said. Before she could reply, he began to fall. 

In the movies, when something crazy happens and everything slows down, it's just the cameras. You can't believe that people actually see that, but it's true. Time seemed to just stop as a scream ripped from Sibley’s throat as she watched him. He was like a falling star, so high and now hurtling towards the earth. She and John and Amber ran towards him, where a crowd was surrounding.

She fell to her knees by her father's lifeless body and continued to scream. John grabbed her from behind, trying to lift her, but she struggled and kicked. Suddenly Amber's voice pulled her out of her trance. 

“Sibley, p-please.” she looked up to see Amber staring up in horror at something above her, she was crying. 

“I- I knew my Dad wouldn't let me get away with it. It wasn't your fault, okay? It was always going to end like this. I would never be like him.” she rambled. 

“Amber?” Sibley whispered in confusion. Then she saw it. The red dot. 

“Amber no! Not you! No! This is not happening! Not both of you! I can't lose you!” 

“I love you. I'm sorry.” she said. 

“Amber!” suddenly, there were two bodies. Two puddles of blood. More paramedics swarming around and picking them up. Sibley didn't move. She sat there. Numb. Shaking. 

“Sibley.” John lifted her up and she let him. He held her into him, cradling her and trying to soothe her, but there was nothing to soothe. Even after he put her in a cab and took her back to Baker Street. Even when he laid her on the couch and made her tea. She still saw the bodies. Both of them. Their blood everywhere.


	21. Epilog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short but here it is. The Epilog. Please read the note at the end!

Sibley stood over her father's grave. It was a sunny day. A happy looking day. It was wrong. After that funeral and burying her father. The world seemed to happy. It should be grieving with them. 

“Ready?” John asked her. 

“Just- just give me a minute.” she whispered. He nodded and walked away. 

“You know, this wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to suffer two more years with mother and then be off. Do my thing. Alone. Ya know it- it sucked. It was awful I- I was alone. Then you come around, jerk that you were and… You changed everything. You weren't like a normal father but I didn't need or want normal. You were great and- ya know I- I don't know what to do now, Dad. What am I supposed to do? Your dead. Amber's dead. John barely speaks. Mycroft is- well Mycroft. I miss you. I really, really miss you. How the hell can you be dead?! After everything why- why are you dead! You weren't supposed to go and do this! You jumped off of a building and I'm alone again! You- you-” she fell to her knees. Sibley hadn't cried at all since it happened. She couldn't. She was too empty, but now she was weeping. Sobbing loudly on the dirt. After a while she collected herself and looked up, taking in a deep breath. “Just know that you're missed. By all of us. Even Anderson and Donovan, I can tell. You never gave yourself enough credit. People did- do love. You're a pain, but we love you anyway.” she stood up. ”So if you could just stop being dead. That- that would be nice. Until then, say hello to Amber for me.” with that, she walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it for the first book but I'm going to have a second really short book because how could I possibly leave it here? I'm also totally willing to do one-shots and such so I will be taking requests! They can be one shots that took place during this book that we didn't see or one-shots for after Sherlock comes back or One-shots for in between. I'm planning on doing a few crossovers and stuff that happens before Sherlock is revealed to be alive so... Yeah.
> 
> Anyways, please let me know what you think!


End file.
